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Selected and Edited with 
Introductory Notes 


Author of " Life of Froude " 

In Demy 8vo, 7s. 6d. net. 

A Second Series of Famous 
Speeches is in Preparation 

Famous Sermons 




Canon of Salisbury ; Diocesan Warden of Sacred Study ; 
Proctor in Convocation; Sometime Fellow of Pembroke College, 


Author of 'Reason, Thought, and Language ' ; 

"Lancelot Andrewes"; "The Great Solemnity," etc. 




No. 1 AMEN CORNER, E.C. . . . 1911 

Printed bv Sir Isaac Pitman 
& Sons, Ltd., London, Bath, 
AND New York . . 1911 





Editor's Note 1 

An All-Hallowtide Sermon 2 

PETER OF BLOIS (d. 1200) 

Editor's Note 7 

Satan the Accuser 8 

HUGH LATIMER (14— P-1555) 

Editor's Note 14 

The Ploughers 17 


Editor's Note 35 

Of the Power of the Keys 37 

JOHN DONNE (1573-1631) 

Editor's Note 51 

Falling Out of the Hands of God ... 54 

WILLIAM LAUD (1573-1645) 

Editor's Note 70 

A Sermon from the Scaffold .... 73 

JEREMY TAYLOR (1613-1667) 

Editor's Note .79 

The Marriage Ring 83 

ISAAC BARROW (1630-1677) 

Editor's Note 97 

The King's Happy Return 100 




ROBERT SOUTH (1633-1716) 

Editor's Note 117 

Man Created in God's Image .... 120 


Editor's Note ....... 135 

Perils among False Brethren . . . .138 

BENJAMIN HOADLY (1676-1761) 

Editor's Note ....... 151 

The Nature of Christ's Kingdom . . . .156 

JOHN WESLEY (1703-1791) 

Editor's Note 167 

The Gainsaying of Korah . . . . .171 

SAMUEL HORSLEY ^ 733- 1800) 

Editor's Note ....... 180 

The Death of Louis XVI 182 

SYDNEY SMITH (1771-1845) 

Editor's Note ....... 193 

A Patriot Queen . . . . . . .197 

JOHN KEBLE (1792-1866) 

Editor's Note 205 

- National Apostasy 210 


Editor's Note ....... 223 

" Hear the Church " 225 

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (1801-1890) 

Editor's Note 239 

The Parting of Friends 244 




Editor's Note ....... 254 

The Entire Absolution of the Penitent . . 257 


Editor's Note 280 

A Consecration Sermon 281 


Editor's Note 289 

War 291 


Editor's Note 310 

Five Minutes after Death 313 


What makes a famous sermon ? Either some historic circum- 
stance or result connected with it, or else some quality in itself 
of unusual eloquence or spiritual power. In the present volume 
the aim is to present examples of both kinds of remarkable 
sermon. Thus, Bishop Hoadly's belongs to the former class 
only — it had important political consequences, but has no 
particular hterary value — while Donne's discourse on the Peril 
of Damnation and Dr. Liddon's sermon called " Five Minutes 
after Death " are read purely as masterpieces of eloquent 
reasoning. On the other hand, Newman's " Parting of Friends " 
is both an exquisite threnody and a landmark in English 
ecclesiastical history. Most of the sermons in this volume, 
however, have been chosen on account of something which 
gives them a permanent interest in the eyes of the historian, 
or as representative of an epoch. Except the first one, they 
were all preached in English. 

It win certainly be asked why these are printed here and not 
others. I fear many readers wiU be vexed to find that some 
favourite sermon is not included in the list. It can only be 
replied that a volume has limits, and that the most admired 
sermons are usually the ones that are already on our shelves. 
For the same reason, and because of restrictions of copyright, 
modern preachers have been but slightly drawn upon for this 
collection. Should it find a welcome from the public, the pub- 
lishers hope to add a second series. Such a series might, 
perhaps, include Swift's homily on Sleeping in Church. A 
correspondent suggests to me that Ridley's funeral oration on 
the death of Francis I, the repressor of Protestantism, would be 
a curiosity, if extant. An historically important sermon, of 
which only one or two copies are known to exist, is Beveridge's 
" Salvation in the Church only, under the Sacred Ministry," 


preached in Latin before the Convocation of Canterbury, which 
practically killed the Plan of Comprehension and Prayer 
Book revision scheme of 1689. 

Sermons that mould history, epoch-making deliverances, 
are probably of the past. For while niggling pulpit politics 
are deservedly resented, kilhng the spiritual life of communities 
which resort to them, the great prophetic preaching which 
shakes not only consciences but realms needs the evangelic 
trumpet of a St. Bernard, ^ a Savonarola or a Massillon on the 
one hand, and a listening nation on the other. " The age of 
the pulpit has gone by," not indeed for pastoral purposes, but 
certainly as an engine of national, or even of ecclesiastical, 
conflict. A truly national Church is a Church whose life and 
thought are interwoven with the life of the people to which 
God has given it for a guide, yet are also above and outside 
it. In the closing eighteenth century Sydney Smith asserted 
that the clergy of England had no more influence over the 
people at large than the cheesemongers of England. If so, 
it was not because clerical ideas were too greatly detached 
from those of the average Briton — never was the assimilation 
closer — but because they had too little that was unearthly. 
" Is it a wonder," asked Sydney Smith, " that every semi- 
delirious sectary, who pours forth his animated nonsense 
with the genuine look of passion, should gesticulate away 
the congregation of the most profound and learned divine 
of the Established Church, and in two Sundays preach him 
bare to the very sexton ? " Naturalness, he declared, was 
what was lacking in the clergy. Was it not rather super- 
naturalness ? They seemed to bring no message from another 
world. Fashions of thought have altered since 1800, but the 
very last way to recover the position of national leadership 
would be for the Church to preach down to the topics of the 
hour and the earthly pre-occupations of mankind. " For 

1 While he was preaching the Second Crusade, a sermon of Bernard's, at 
Spires, moved the Emperor Conrad to place himself at the head of 
the Red Cross knights. 


God's sake," cried Archbishop Leighton, " when all my brethren 
preach to the times, suffer one poor priest to preach about 
eternity." Deep calleth unto deep. Cor ad cor loquitur. 

The pulpit was once what the press is to-day. The topical 
sermon was succeeded by the pamphlet, and the pamphlet by the 
leading article, and the leading article by the platform speech, 
disseminated everywhere. Governments, which forty years 
ago tried to have journalists at their call, relied during the 
eighteenth century on pamphleteers, and before that tuned 
pulpits. The part played in the struggles of the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries by Paul's Cross, by the Spital 
Sermons, ^ by Greenwich, St. James's or Whitehall preachers, 
and the like, was immense. Another powerful instrument for 
influencing educated thought was the University pulpit. Our 
forefathers seldom halted between two opinions. What 
Hearne two centuries ago denounced as the trimming party- 
per-pale sermon, half Whig and half Tory, had hardly been, 
at an earlier date, a common phenomenon. A preacher might 
change sides, bum that which he had adored and adore that 
which he had burned, but he seldom saw more than one side 
at a time. And coupled with this simplicity of view went 
an amazing directness of speech and outspokenness of address, 
undeterred by the threatening interruptions of a riotous 
rabble or the " Stick to your text, Mr. Dean," of an angry 
Queen. At Mary's obsequies Bishop White declared Mary 
to have chosen the good part, but then " canis vivus [Elizabeth] 
melior est leone mortuo." A demagogue like Fitzosbert in 
Richard I's time found an unrestricted rostrum in the outdoor 
pulpit of St. Paul's, and when Latimer would counsel Edward 
VI on the choice of a consort he did it coram populo in an open- 
air sermon before the Court. The question of Henry VIII's 

1 In the churchyard of the old Priorj'- and Hospital at Bethnal Green, 
called St. Mary Spital. stood anciently a pulpit-cross in which some prelate 
or other learned doctor preached on three days in Easter week. The pulpit 
was destroyed by CromwelUan hands, but the Spital Sermon is still preached 
at Christ Church, Newgate Street, the old Greyfriars. 


divorce, of the supremacy and of ceremonies, was agitated 
in the most unreserved and plain-spoken manner by public 
preachers on both sides, and the whole course of the Reforma- 
tion might be read in the Paul's Cross or other preachings of 
the day, in which men like Forrest, Bourne, Cole and Bonner 
— to whom, by the by, we owe the noble Homily on Charity — 
were opposed to antagonists such as Ridley, Cranmer, Barnes 
or Jewel. ^ Sometimes the occasion was an auto-da-fe, as 
when Latimer preached at Friar Forrest's burning, Shaxton 
at Anne Askew's, or Cole — for two weary hours — before 
Cranmer's. Or it might be some momentous occasion, such 
as Cardinal Pole's solemn reconciliation of England to the 
Holy See, when Gardiner preached on the text, " Brethren, 
now is the time to awake from sleep." 

In Scotland the long-winded pulpiteers crossed the t's of 
their references to public affairs so decisively that King James 
VI prayed on his knees before every sermon that he might 
hear nothing to grieve him. When he came to England as 
James I he found he could pray for edification. Yet there 
were still history-making sermons preached there also, such as 
those of Bilson and Bancroft, of Sibthorp and Manwaring. 
Life seemed to men so homogeneous that politics and faith 
were indistinguishable. Such conditions can hardly recur. Even 
from university pulpits ^ the latter-day sermon, addressed to a 
non-ecclesiastical auditory, is apt to be academic, neutral, un- 
disturbing, and its wider circle of readers will usually be small. 
There is no gluttony for being preached to in our generation, 
which, as someone said, is indifferent whether a sermon be high, 
low or broad, if it be not long. " Liddon carried us up to 

^ But on Elizabeth's accession, " because the pulpits often serve as drums 
and fifes to inflame fury, proclamation was made that no man should preach 
but such as should be allowed by authority." Hayward, Annals of Qu.Eliz., 
p. 5. The "drum ecclesiastick " was beaten loudly enough a century later. 

^ The old wooden pulpit of St. Mary's, Oxford, in which so many famous 
sermons were delivered between mid-Stuart days and the time of Keble and 
Newman, is now converted into the altar of Codford St. Mary Church, Wilts. 
It would be painful to enquire where other famous rostrums are. Few can 
have survived the Victorian " restorers." 


heaven for an hour, and kept us there," said Archbishop 
Benson — indeed Dr. Liddon preached once for a hundred 
minutes. But most preachers are obliged to call their dis- 
courses " a few words " or a " simple talk." Barrow's sermon 
on the " King's Happy Return " is given in the present volume, 
but not all its 16,000 or more words, for who now is sufficient 
for these things ? 

In the Reformation era, in England as in France, la preche 
and la messe were party badges. But the English puritans 
set preaching over against Bible-reading also. Hooker ^ 
defends the reading of lessons in church, and private study of 
the Divine oracles, against those who maintained that Holy 
Scripture, until it is " explained by a lively voice and applyed 
to the people's use as the speaker in his wisdom thinketh 
meet," is not the Word of God. It was held not only that in 
sermons Christ is lifted higher and more apparently to faith's 
eye, or that the savour of the Word is more sweet being brayed 
and more able to nourish being preached, but that sermons 
are the only ordinary keys to the kingdom., and without them 
the Scriptures are a clasped book. Accordingly these people 
" fall upon their poor brethren which can but read, and against 
them are bitterly eloquent." Hooker in his stately way dis- 
proves at length the " superstitious and eye-darkening conceit " 
that preaching only has power to save. " We esteem it as the 
blessed ordinance of God, sermons as keys to the kingdom of 
heaven, as wings to the soul, as spurs to the good affections of 
man, unto the sound and healthy as food, as physick unto 
diseased minds." But he protests against the shutting up the 
sense of the word " preaching " in so close a prison, and the 
notion that " the chief est cause of committing the Sacred Word 
of God unto books was lest the preacher should want a text 
whereon to scholy." " By means whereof it hath come to pass 
that churches which cannot enjoy the benefit of usual preaching 
are judged, as it were, even forsaken of God, forlorn and 

1 Eccl. Pol. V, §§ 21, 22. 


Nvithout hope or comfort. Contrariwise, those places which 
every day for the most part are at sermons as the flowing sea, 
do both by their emptiness at times of reading and by other 
apparent tokens show to the voice of the living God, this 
way sounding in the ears of men, a great deal less reverence 
than were meet." Bishop Andrewes hit hard at mere " auri- 
cular profession." In a later age the Tractarians were some- 
what disposed to disparage sermons, disliking emotionalism and 
the common overshadowing of the altar, the font, the lectern 
and the prayer-desk by the pulpit. And yet the puritan, 
or rather the quaker, contention that the written page of the 
Bible requires the living voice of the Spirit, mediated through 
holy minds, to quicken it and make it a sharp two-edged 
sword dividing the very hearts and reins — in other words, 
that the letter of Scripture needs a ghostly interpreter — 
pointed straight to the office of the Holy Catholic Church. 
And if there were many " dumb dogs " in the mediaeval Church 
there were also the Preaching Orders, there were great exposi- 
tory teachers, and saintly voices whose call to repentance 
rang through the world. 

The sermon openly read from manuscript does not seem to 
have come in tiU the later seventeenth century. Monmouth, 
as Chancellor of Cambridge University, issued an edict against 
written sermons. Preaching was then gathering formality 
and respectability round it. Pope speaks of Hoadly's immense 
" periods of a mile," and Burnet says that the hour-glass 
sermons of his day, with their languid and heavy first part, 
" flatted " the hearers and disposed them to slumber. In 
the older times winged words were interrupted by " hums " 
or even shoutings. Bourne, the first preacher at Paul's Cross 
under Mary, was assailed with cries of " He preacheth damna- 
tion ; puU him down ! " and a dagger whistled by his head. 
Latimer held that " a good preacher may declare the Word of 
God sitting on a horse or preaching in a tree." Hooker, how- 
ever, so Gauden teUs us, " dispensed the Gospel in a still voice 


and silent gesture," making, says Fuller, " good musick with 
his fiddle and stick alone, without any rosin . . . Where his 
eye was left fixed at the beginning, it was found fixed at the end 
of his sermon." His sermons, Walton records, "were uttered 
with a grave zeal and humble voice, his eyes always fixt on 
one place to prevent his imagination from wandering, inso- 
much that he seemed to study as he spake." But clearly he 
did not read his sermons. Nor did that very lively preacher, 
Lancelot Andrewes, called " steUa praedicantium," though his 
sermons were " thrice betwixt the hammer and the anvil ' ' before 
being preached. Elizabeth said she liked "bosom-sermons" 
which "smelt of the candle." A century later a " smooth way 
of oratory," elegant, gentlemanly and polished, prevailed, and 
the great Tillotson, being one Sunday without his manuscript 
in a village church, floundered and broke down. In Jeremy 
Taylor's hands the sermon had become a piece of finished and 
delicate artistry, elaborately chased and gemmed, and South 
had some reason in contrasting St. Paul's words of soberness 
in preaching the Gospel with enticing descriptions of the 
fringes of the north star, the down of angels' wings, and a cloud 
rolling in its airy mansion. " The Apostles, poor mortals, 
were content to use a dialect which only pierced the conscience, 
and made the hearers cry out, ' Men and brethren, what shall 
we do ? ' " When men came from real sermons they never 
commended the preacher's talents, but spoke like those who 
are conquered by overpowering truth — " Did not our hearts 
bum within us while he opened to us the Scriptures ? " It 
was said of Bossuet that his voice was like an echo from heaven. 
" Before going up into the pulpit," he wrote, " let us listen 
for the heavenly Master's voice and preach only what He tells 
us." " When I hear other preachers," said Louis XIV to 
Massillon, " I am well pleased with them ; but when I hear 
you I go away displeased wdth myself." 

The Church of England has not produced many preachers 
of sovereign rank. No one ever had the ear of London as 


Bourdaloue and the great French orators had that of Paris. 
For one thing, Enghshmen, though they will listen to a two- 
hour political speech or a long scientific lecture, have seldom 
enough theological interest to sit through an elaborated sermon. 
A speech is topical, and looks towards an immediate practical 
result. No one discourses on general principles of government. 
A speech is seldom isolated, but is part of a current contro- 
versy or movement, and has the zest of the arena. It helps 
to determine State or other affairs, whereas a sermon only 
determines character and thought. A speech, unlike a sermon, 
is usually reported, and reaches a wide circle. Oratory is 
essential to it, whereas St. Paul sent a hearer to sleep, and it 
is not certain that the tongue of angels would be plausively 
approved. Again, some of the best pulpit work is expository 
rather than hortative. There are likely, then, to be fewer 
famous sermons than famous speeches. 

In spite of Burnet's opinion (mentioned above) of the 
ineffectiveness of leisurely concionation, it is said that his own 
" finally " was always unwelcome. Sir John Jekyl told 
Speaker Onslow that he was present when the bishop, having 
" preached out the hour-glass " but having more to say, 
held the sand-vessel up in his hand to the congregation, and 
then turned it for another hour, amid what was almost a 
shout of gladness. The temperate habits of the modern hearer 
of sermons shun the second glass, and to the reader also it 
will often appear that the half is more than the whole. Ac- 
cordingly it has been necessary somewhat to abbreviate 
several of the earlier sermons in this volume. 



Almost every Breviary contains extracts from this discourse 
of the Anglo-Saxon age for the lections of the All-Hallows 
festival. Dr. Neale, whose translation of the sermon is here 
given, calls it Beda's crowning glory, though Dr. J. A. Giles, 
in his Patres EcclesicB Anglicance (1843) considers it to be 
of that age only. It was preached, at any rate, within the first 
century of the evangelisation of Northumbria. 

Bede's auditors were his brethren in the convent of St. 
Paul at Yarrow, men sequestered from the world. Monastic 
sermons, as a rule, were brief, tranquil and heavenly-minded. 
According to a quaint legend, Bede had on one occasion 
another kind of congregation. It is said that he became 
blind, and that the boy who guided his steps maliciously led 
him to a stony place and told him that many people were there, 
desirous to hear him. Accordingly he addressed a homily 
to the stones, which immediately cried out, when he ended, 
" Amen, Bede the venerable one." And thus he got his name. 
But a less grotesque version of this story makes the words to 
have been uttered by angels, in response to Bede's prayer 
at the close of his preaching — " Which may God, Father, 
Son and Holy Ghost, vouchsafe to grant unto us." 

When Bede lay dying, on the eve of the Ascension — the 
date in the kalendar is May 27 — while urging his disciples to 
think upon their last hour he sang the words, choosing them 
for a text, " It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the 
living God." The sermon of Donne's which is given in this 
volume passed at its close from the same theme to the still 


J— (2433) 


more awful thought how fearful a thing it were to fall out of 
God's hands. It was preached nearly a thousand years later. 
But the Gospel does not change with the mutation of times. 
Samuel Johnson, in Georgian days of patch and hoop, could 
never say the words of the Advent sequence, " tantus labor 
con sit cassus " — let it not be in vain that Thou hast died — 
without the tears falling on his cheeks, and as the dying Bede 
prayed " Leave us not desolate " he burst into prolonged 
weeping. But, Cuthbert tells us, such tears were the overflow 
of joy. 

An All-Hallowtide Sermon 

To-day, beloved, we celebrate in the joy of one solemnity 
the festival of All Saints : in whose companionship the heaven 
exults ; in whose guardianship the earth rejoices ; by whose 
triumphs Holy Church is crowned ; whose confession, as 
braver in its passion, is also brighter in its honour — because, 
while the battle increased, the glory of them that fought in 
it was also augmented. And the triumph of martyrdom is 
adorned with the manifold kind of its torments, because the 
more severe the pangs, the more illustrious also were the 
rewards ; while our Mother, the Catholic Church, was taught 
by her Head, Jesus Christ, not to fear contumely, affliction, 
death ; and more and more strengthened, — not by resistance, 
but by endurance, — inspired all of that illustrious number who 
suffered imprisonment or torture, with one and equal ardour 
to fight the battle, for triumphal glory. 

O truly blessed Mother Church ! so illuminated by the 
honour of Divine condescension, so adorned by the glorious 
blood of triumphant martyrs, so decked with the inviolate 
confession of snow-white virginity ! Among its flowers, 
neither roses nor lilies are wanting. Endeavour now, beloved, 
each for yourselves, in each kind of honour, to obtain your 
own dignity — crowns, snow-white for chastity, or purple for 
passion. In those heavenly camps both peace and war have 
their own flowers, wherewith the soldiers of Christ are 

For the ineffable and unbounded goodness of God has pro- 
vided this also, that the time for labour and for agony should 
not be extended, — not long, not enduring, but short, and, so to 


speak, momentary ; that in this short and httle Ufe should be 
the pain and the labours — that in the life which is eternal 
should be the crown and the reward of merits ; that the labours 
should quickly come to an end, but the reward of endurance 
should remain without end ; that after the darkness of this 
world they should behold that most beautiful light, and should 
receive a blessedness greater than the bitterness of all passions : 
as the Apostle beareth witness when he said, The sufferings 
of this present time are not worthy to he compared with the glory 
that shall he revealed in us. 

With how joyous a breast the heavenly city receives those 
that return from fight ! How happily she meets them that 
bear the trophies of the conquered enemy ! With triumphant 
men women also come, who rose superior both to this world 
and to their sex, doubling the glory of their warfare ; virgins 
with youths, who surpassed their tender years by their virtues. 
Yet not they alone, but the rest of the multitude of the faithful 
shall also enter the palace of that eternal court, who in peaceful 
union have observed the heavenly commandments, and have 
maintained the purity of the faith. 

Now, therefore, brethren, let us enter the way of life ; let 
us return to the celestial city, in which we are citizens, enrolled 
and inscribed. For we are no more strangers and foreigners, 
hut fellow-citizens of the saints, and of the household of God — 
heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ. The gates of this city 
are opened to us by fortitude ; and faith will afford us a broad 
entrance. Let us consider, therefore, the fehcity of that 
heavenly habitation, in so far as it is possible to consider it : 
for to speak the truth, no words of man are sufficient to 
comprehend it. 

Of that city is written, in a certain place, thus : " that grief, 
and sorrow, and cr^ang, shall flee away. What can be happier 
than that life, where there is no fear of poverty — no weakness 
of disease ; where none can be hurt, none can be angry ; 
where none can envy, none can be impure ; where none can 
be tormented with the desire of honour, or the ambition of 
power ? No fear there of the Devil ; no snares there of evil 
spirits ; no terror there of hell ; no death there, either of soul 
or body, but a hfe blessed in the gift of immortahty. No 
discord there for ever, but all things in harmony — all things 
in agreement : because there will be one concord of all saints — 


one peace, and one joy. Tranquil are all things there, and 
quiet. Perpetual is the splendour there : not such as the sun- 
light which now is, but both more glorious and more happy ; 
because that city, as we read, needeth not the light of the sun : 
for the Lord God giveth it light, and its brightness is the Lamb. 
There, they that be wise shall shine as the brightness of the firma- 
ment ; and they that turn many to righteousness, as the stars for 
ever and ever. 

Wherefore, there is no night there, — no darkness, no 
gathering of clouds, no asperity of cold or heat ; but such will 
be the nature of things as neither hath eye seen, nor the ear heard, 
neither hath it entered into the heart of man, except of those who 
are counted worthy to inherit it : whose names are written in 
the Book of Life ; who have both washed their robes in the 
Blood of the Lamb, and are before the Throne of God, and 
serve Him day and night. There is no old age there, nor misery 
of old age ; while all come to a perfect man, to the measure of 
the stature of the fulness of Christ. ^ 

But above all things is the being associated with the com- 
panies of Angels and Archangels, Thrones and Dominations, 
Principalities and Powers, and the enjoyment of the watches 
of all the celestial virtues ; to behold the squadrons of the 
saints, adorned with stars ; the Patriarchs, glittering with 
faith ; the Prophets, rejoicing in hope ; the Apostles who, 
in the twelve tribes of Israel, shall judge the whole world ; 
the Martyrs, decked with the purple diadems of victory ; the 
Virgins, also, with their wreaths of beauty. But of the King, 
Who is in the midst, no words are able to speak. That beauty, 
that virtue, that glory, that magnificence, that majesty, 
surpasses every expression — every sense of the human mind. 
For it is greater than the glory of all the saints but to attain 
to that ineffable sight, and to be made radiant with the splen- 
dour of His Countenance. It were worth while to suffer 
torments every day — it were worth while to endure hell itself 
for a season — so that we might behold Christ coming in glory, 
and be joined to the number of the saints. Is it not, then, 

^ The preacher is, of course, referring to that explanation of the text which 
would teach that, as our Lord rose again in the very best part of earthly life, 
so our bodies, at the Resurrection, will be raised at the same age as His was ; 
and to this purpose they also quote that text, Isaiah bcv, 20, " There shall be 
no more thence an infant of days, nor an old man that hath not filled his days ; 
for tJw child shall die an hundred years old." — (Neale's note.) 


well worth while to endure earthly sorrows, that we may be 
partakers of such good, and of such glory ? 

What, beloved brethren, will be that glory of the righteous ! 
What that great gladness of the saints, when every face shall 
shine as the sun ; when the Lord shall begin to count over 
in distinct orders His people, and to receive them into the 
kingdom of His Father, and to render to each the rewards 
promised to their merits and to their works, things heavenly, 
for things earthly ; things eternal for things temporal ; a great 
reward, for a little labour ; to introduce the saints to the vision 
of His Father's glory ; and to make them sit down in heavenly 
places, to the end that God may be all in all ; and to bestow 
on them that love Him that eternity which He hath promised 
to them — that immortality for which He has redeemed them 
by the quickening of His own Blood ; lastly, to restore them 
to Paradise, and to open the kingdom of heaven by the faith 
and verity of His promise ! 

Let these things be engrafted firmly in our senses — be under- 
stood by the fulness of our faith — be loved with the whole 
heart — be acquired by perseverence of unceasing works. The 
thing itself lies in the power of him that acts : because the 
kingdom of heaven suffereth violence. This thing, O man, that 
is, the kingdom of heaven, requires no other price than thyself. 
It is worth what thou art worth : give thyself, and thou shalt 
have that. Why shouldest thou be troubled about the price ? 
Christ surrendered himself, that He might win thee as a 
kingdom to God the Father. In hke manner, do thou give 
thyself, that thou mayest become His kingdom, that sin may 
not reign in thy mortal body, but that the Spirit may rule there, 
to the acquiring of Hfe. Let it be our joy, then, to stretch 
forth after the palm of salutary works. Let us one and all 
wiUingly and readily strive in this contest of righteousness ; 
let us run with God and Christ for spectators ; and if we have 
already begun to rise superior to this world and this life, let 
us not allow our course to be retarded by any hankering after 
it. If the Last Day shall find us running without hindrance 
and swiftly in this race, the Lord will never deny remuneration 
to our merits. For He Who will give a purple crown for their 
passion to them that conquer in persecution, the same will 
bestow a* snow-white diadem, according to the merits of their 
righteousness, to them that triumph in peace. For neither 


Abraham nor Isaac nor Jacob were slain ; and yet, honoured 
by the merits of their faith and righteousness, they were 
reckoned the first among the Patriarchs ; and whoever shall 
be found faithful, and just, and praiseworthy, shall sit down 
with them at the banquet. These are the footsteps which all 
the saints, as they were returning to their Country, left behind, 
that, treading in their prints, we might also follow them in 
their joys. 

Let us consider that Paradise is our country, as well as 
theirs : and so we shall begin to reckon the Patriarchs as our 
fathers. Why do we not, then, hasten and run, that we may 
behold our Country, and salute our parents ? A great multi- 
tude of dear ones is there expecting us : a vast and mighty 
crowd of parents, brothers, and children, secure now of their 
own safety, anxious yet of our salvation, longs that we may 
come to their sight and embrace — to that joy which will be 
common to us and to them — to that pleasure expected by our 
celestial fellow-servants, as well as ourselves — to that full and 
perpetual feUcity. If it be a pleasure to go to them, let us 
eagerly and covetously hasten on our way, that we may 
soon be with them, and soon be with Christ ; that we may 
have Him as our Guide in this journey. Who is the Author of 
Salvation, the Prince of Life, the Giver of Gladness, and Who 
liveth and reigneth with God the Father Almighty, and 
with the Holy Ghost. 

PETER OF BLOIS {d. 1200) 

Petrus Blesensis, called from his preaching power " most 
divine," was a canon of Salisbury and archdeacon successively 
of Bath, London and Canterbury, of which church he was also 
chancellor. Born at Blois, he studied oratory and other liberal 
arts at Paris, divinity, under John of Sahsbury, at Chartres, and 
law at Bologna, on his way to which city he was made prisoner 
by the partisans of the anti-Pope Octavian. At one time he was 
employed as secretary by William, King of Sicily, but being 
banished thence he was invited to England by Henry II. He 
negotiated between the Crown, the Archbishop of Canterbury 
and the Roman See about the rights of the metropolitical 
church, and also persuaded Henry to continue paying Peter's 
pence. He died in England in the last year of the twelfth 
century. He was all his life in deacon's orders. Peter's 
sermons were first printed at Paris in the year 1519. His 
works form four volumes in Dr. Giles's Patres Ecdesice 

The sermon here subjoined is given in Neale's MedicBval 
Preaching. It was dehvered in English to a village congrega- 
tion, probably of Somerset folk, and was so much talked about 
that the preacher was persuaded to issue it in a Latin dress, and 
much expanded. Its sensational appeal, addressed to secular 
persons, contrasts with the serene tone of Bede's cloistered 
homily of nearly five centuries earlier. Mediaeval preaching 
was objective, naive and uncompromising. It was Scriptural 
in the truest sense, not as quoting a string of texts, but as 
Hving in a Scriptural atmosphere ; and, even when the applica- 
tion was most forced, so as now to raise a smile, it was never 
artificial. The mystical meaning always seems, both to 
preacher and auditors, the real and intended one. The follow- 
ing Sermon, however, on Satan as Devil, Diaholos, the Accuser 



of the brethren and Estranger between God and man, is dra- 
matically simple and straightforward. The text was Psalm 
xciv, 16, 17 (" Who will rise up for me against the 
wicked ? etc."). 

Satan the Accuser 

... To us worldly men, who are not only in the world, 
but of the world, — who are set in the midst of a perverse and 
crooked generation, crooked and perverse ourselves, — who 
are often intoxicated and sickened with the cup of Babylon, — 
to us, I say, I think that meditation, which impresses with the 
fear of the Judge, Wlio will judge the world by fire, is highly 
useful and profitable ; that Judge by Whom the saints wiU 
judge the people, by Whom the miserable daughter of Babylon 
will have her own retribution returned upon her, — a wretched 
and eternal retribution. O blessed souls of the saints, who, 
while yet in the flesh, live above the flesh ; while yet men, 
show forth the life of angels ! O truly blessed, whose it is to 
gather the most sweet fruits of contemplation ; whose it is 
to possess a harbour, as it were, of tranquillity in this great 
and wide sea ; who are neither driven from their course by the 
rushing wind of fear, nor tossed by the tumult of the stormy 
ocean ! O thrice and four times happy, before whose eyes 
is the love of their Redeemer, the love of their Father, and of 
their Country, and that continually ; and who know the fear 
of the Judge and of hell only at a distance ! They, indeed, 
forgetting the things behind, press forward to the things that are 
before : they not only despise, but are ignorant of fear ; and 
that dread which at first introduced love, being cast out, 
they, so to speak, cannot help loving ever since the time that 
they were first inflamed by such affection. It is for them to 
be anointed with the oil of the good Samaritan ; it is for us to 
use the wine of compunction : it is for them to draw water with 
joy out of the wells of the Saviour, to be satisfied with the pleasures 
of His house, to be given to drink of the water of the wisdom of 
salvation ; it is ours to mingle our drink with weeping, to be 
fed with the bread of tears, to have the plenteousness of tears 
which the Lord giveth to drink. They always sit at the ban- 
quet with their Father, the Merciful and Gentle, the Giver 
of all good things with benedictions. Let us continually turn 


our eyes to the Judge — the severe, the jealous, the strict 
Examiner, not only into our works, but into every idle word. 
There is no readier way by which we may obtain their happy 
condition, no easier access, no more profitable advance. This 
way is straight in the ingress, more tolerable in the progress, 
more fruitful in the egress. This is the beginning of the road 
that leads to our Country ; for the fear of the Lord is the 
beginning of wisdom. 

Satan Pleading against the Soul of the Sinner 

" Behold, Lord, this man stands before Thee, altogether 
man, altogether flesh, altogether clay ; whose faults are 
manifest, whose transgressions against Thy Majesty are infinite, 
whose sin has no plea of lightness to merit pardon, whose 
obstinacy in enormous wickedness cries for wrath and ven- 
geance But not to dwell on generals, and to come to 

particulars, I pass over the rest, exceeding, as they do, measure 
and number ; and I accuse him especially of these crimes, 
and shall persevere with my charge on account of this three- 
fold transgression. In the first place, I boldly pronounce 
him a liar and a perjured person ; for who can deny that 
he is such who, after having solemnly, and with the consent 
of legitimate witnesses, blotted out the handwriting of sin 
that stood in my name against him, nevertheless broke, by 
the transgression of his pledge, the baptismal covenant so 
solemnly entered into with Thee, and approved by so many 
bystanders ? Then, O good Judge, he acted guilefully towards 
Thee, when a fallacious and deceitfully intended promise 
obtained the remission of original sin. But, unless I am mis- 
taken, God understands a promise or an oath in that sense 
in which he who promises or swears intends it. Didst Thou 
understand, O righteous Judge, the deceit intended against 
Thee, and didst yet remain silent ? or didst Thou not under- 
stand it ? — Thou, to Whom all hearts are open, all desires 
known, and from Whom no secrets are hid ? But when Thou 
didst perceive the guile, why didst Thou give the remission ? — 
or, at least, why didst Thou not forgive deceitfully, 

" Art by art to overthrow," 

and allow the false promiser and detected deceiver to fall into 
the same pit which he had made ? 


" But let it be so, — that Thou wast pitiful or remiss in 
Baptism, and mayest perhaps have made some account of 
the age of the promiser : who can answer to me as to his pro- 
mise repeated twice, thrice, ay, and much oftener ? I am not 
accusing the Judge with the prisoner, but I offer to the Judge 
the man that is to be judged. Is to be ? — if there be any 
justice, he is already judged. Thou hast instituted, O Lord, 
a plank after shipwreck, the power of rising after a fall, penance 
after sin. I say nothing, and pass by the fact that this institu- 
tion was made to my manifest wrong : I cannot destroy it ; 
and, therefore, I allow it and stand by it. This man renounced 
in Baptism Satan and all his works, and all his pomps ; and, 
unmindful of his promise, gave himself over, as soon as he could, 
to the Power whom he had renounced, implicated himself in 
his works, and took a part in his pomps. But, when he knew 
what he had done, he changed his determination for the better. 
Be it so, that he inclined his heart, and forsook also his own 
people and his father's house : be it so, that the wicked forsook 
his ways, and the unrighteous man his thoughts, and returned to 
the Lord, and He had mercy upon him. Be it so : but it is 
equally clear that he again changed that determination for the 
worse, and the latter end of that man became worse than the first : 
which I will briefly show. 

"Remember, I pray Thee, that he renewed his promises to 
Thee before Thy vicar, before Thy anointed, — that is, before 
Thy priest : he renewed his baptismal covenant, and bound 
himself again by a fresh engagement. In this case it is impos- 
sible that he can excuse his age, that he can speak of force, 
that he can pretend insufficiency. He came before Thy priest 
in full age, and with full sense ; he promised freely, and not 
by compulsion ; he willingly and boldly took on his shoulders 
a burden which he was able to bear. What more ? In one 
and the same moment he left the priest, and started back 
from his determination ; he deceived the priest, he deceived 
Thee, he deceived himself. He cast off Thy light yoke and 
easy burden ; he embraced his ancient slavery under the 
yoke of sin ; he put away the robe of innocence, and put on a 
garment clotted with blood ; he put away the short garment 
which could not cover him, and again took hold of the vestment 
which he had left with his Egyptian mistress. To be short, 
the greater crimes he had committed before confession, with 


the greater licence he returned to them after it ; yes, and per- 
petrated crimes which till then he had not attempted, drawing 
iniquity with a rope, and sin as it were with a cart-rope. 

" Thus, then, as if the burden of former crimes were not suffi- 
cient for his damnation, he added the transgression of his 
promise and pledge. More than once he came deceitfully to 
the priest, and at the appointed time, giving in to the ordinary 
custom of confession, rather than following purity of conscience, 
he added this, also, once a year to former sins, that, in the 
presence of Thine anointed, he lied to thee, and obtained 
from the priest a fictitious absolution. Time would fail me if 
I were to enumerate the breaking of the promises, the setting 
at nought of the vows. I say nothing of the lies by which his 
whole conversation has been interspersed. I say nothing of 
his frequent and usual oaths and perjuries, in which he cast 
as it were in Thy teeth, and that many times, the human frailty 
which Thou didst take for his sake ; the oaths in which he 
basely reproached Thee with Thy Death, Thy Cross, Thy 
Passion, and the other sufferings of Thy Humanity ; and 
exceeding, in a certain sense, the madness of Jewish cruelty, 
broke Thy bones, — or rather, numbered them all up, and 
injured Thee in all. If, Lord, Thou considerest this a light 
offence. Thou greatly derogatest from the blessing of Thy 
assumed Humanity, and dost not confess that those members 
and those wounds were Thine indeed ; since Thou so lightly 
sufferest and permittest them to be thus opprobriously 

" Therefore, O good Judge, if truth is the beginning of Thy 
words, — nay, rather, if Thou art the Truth itself, — since every 
possible word of truth, and in every possible way, has departed 
from the lips of this guilty man, in Thy truth and for Thy 
truth's sake, slay the soul whose mouth has so often lied, and 
shut out the perjured man from the eyes of Eternal 

" Next, I will manifestly prove him to be a betrayer. Wilt 
Thou not acknowledge him to be a betrayer, who, while 
he eats of Thy bread, lifts up his heel against Thee ? Is not the 
hand of him that betrayeth Thee with Thee on the table, when 
man, who eats angel's food, the bread which cometh down from 
heaven and giveth life unto the world, nevertheless holds com- 
munication with Thine enemies, walks in the counsel of the 


ungodly, stands in the way of sinners, and — ^which is more 
wicked yet, nay, which is most wicked of all — glories that he 
has sat in the seat of the scornful ? Either allow that such an 
one is a traitor, or repel Thy Augustine, who teaches in so many 
words, " He who betrays Christ to a body that sins, is as 
guilty as he that betrayed Him to the that crucified." 
Thou didst feed him, O Lord, from Thy table, from Thy holy 
altar, not with every-day bread, but with the bread of angels ; 
not with every-day drink, but with Thy precious Blood. He sat 
down at a great banquet, and when he should have prepared 
a like return, he rather gave Thee gall and vinegar to drink, 
crucifying to himself the Son of God afresh, and putting Him 
to an open shame. 

" And what if, like a faithful and wise servant, Thou didst set 
him over Thy family, to give them their portion of meat in due 
season ? What if Thou didst see him beyond the angels, in 
that he makes that bread of angels, conceding to him that 
consecration of the Lord's Body and Blood to which the purity 
of the angelic nature cannot approach ? Angels exult with 
fear in beholding that food, but dare not to consecrate it ; 
for Thou has not given to those most pure spirits that which 
Thou hast given to sinful men. Thine angels Thou chargest 
with folly, the sins of men Thou winkest at ; for, after a certain 
sort, man that was lost, and redeemed with some violence 
and diiBculty, seems to be more honoured and loved by Thee 
than Thy angels, who were never lost, and therefore never 
redeemed. Thou callest Thyself fairer than the children of men, 
as if it were glorious for Thee to excel men, — for Thee \\^o, 
by the brightness of Thy Presence, feedest and strengthenest 
the purity of angels. Verily, Thy delights are with the sons of 
men, on whom Thou hast not bestowed angels to be their 
keepers, but hast endured to exalt human nature even above 
the angels. Humble, if Thou wilt. Thine angels ; bow down, 
if Thou wilt, Thine heavens ; raise and exalt man ; let the 
prodigal son find grace in the sight of his father ; let the 
tenth piece of silver, lost and found, be of more esteem than 
the nine that were never lost ; let the hundredth sheep be 
dearer to Thee than the ninety and nine left in the wilderness : 
I bear it, and am silent. I may grieve, I may envy, I cannot 
hinder ; but yet I would so have Thee to love man as to hate 
a betrayer. I desire Thee not to punish nature, but vice. 


Let human nature have her titles of honour, let her keep the 
prerogative of her dignity ; only, let sin obtain that which 
it deserves, — let no crime go unpunished. Receive man, if 
Thou wilt ; but cast out the traitor." 

The Misery of a Wicked Priest 

Certainly a devout and prudent Priest, while he stands at 
the Divine Table, wiU think of nothing else but Jesus Christ, 
and Him crucified. He will set before the eyes of his heart 
the humility of Christ, the patience of Christ, His Passion, 
and sorrows ; the reproaches of Christ — the spittings, the 
scourging, the spear, the Cross, the Death ; he devoutly and 
solicitously recalls and crucifies himself in the memory of the 
Lord's Passion. O how awful, how perilous a thing, my 
brethren, is the administration of your office ! because ye 
shall have to answer not only for your own souls, but for 
the souls committed to your charge, when the Day of tremendous 
Judgment shall come ! And how shall he keep another man's 
conscience whose own is not kept ? For conscience is an abyss 
— a most obscure night : and what, then, of the wretched priest 
who has undertaken this night, and to whom they cry. Watch- 
man, what of the day ? Watchman, what of the night ? What 
is that most wretched Priest to do who feels himself loaded with 
sins, implicated with cares, infected with the filthiness of carnal 
desires, blind, bowed down, weak, straitened by a thousand 
difficulties, anxious through a thousand necessities, miserable 
with a thousand troubles, precipitate to vices, weak to virtues ? 
What shall he do — the son of grief — the son of eternal misery — 
who neither kindles the fire of love in himself, nor in others ? 
Surely he is prepared for the fuel and the consumption of fire ! 
A fire is kindled in the fury of the Lord ; and it shall bum even 
to the nethermost hell. A place is appointed for him with 
everlasting burnings ; the worm is prepared which dieth not, — 
smoke, vapour, and the vehemence of storms ; horror, and a 
deep shade ; the weight of chains of repentance that bind, 
that burn, and that consume not ! From which may that Fire 
deliver us Who consumes not, but consummates — which 
devours not, but enlightens every man that cometh into the 
world. May He illuminate us to give the knowledge of salva- 
tion unto His people ; Who liveth and reigneth ever with the 
Father and the Holy Ghost, God to all ages of ages. 

HUGH LATIMER (14— ?-i555) 

In the year 1539, after the passing of the Act of the Six Articles 
(the " whip with six thongs "), Latimer, unable to comply, 
withdrew from the See of Worcester, He saw the inside 
of the Tower for a short time, receiving on his release a small 
pension, with which he retired into private seclusion ; but his 
servant Augustine Bemher, who collected his Sermons, and 
Foxe say that he spent the last six years of Henry's reign in 
prison, " loking dayly for death." Henry died Jan. 28, 1547, 
and early in the new reign the Protector Somerset was peti- 
tioned by the Commons to restore Latimer to his bishoprick. 
The Government, however, was casting about for influential 
preachers to commend the Coming ecclesiastical changes to the 
people, and the reputation of Latimer for a task of that kind 
was unrivalled. Admirers described him as the best preacher 
in Christendom. He knew himself where his gift lay, and 
diocesan administration was not congenial to him. Burnet 
says he was " now very ancient," and his birth has been put 
as early as 1470 ; on the other hand, it has been put as late as 
1491. Perhaps 1485 is nearest to the real date. But a 
sexagenarian was counted an old man in the sixteenth century. 
Latimer then returned to public life, not as a prelate, but as 
a licensed King's preacher, and at once became a principal 
force in the growing movement towards radical religious 
change, hving meanwhile under Cranmer's roof at Lambeth. 
During the Lent of 1547 Barlow and Ridley preached against 
ceremonies and images, and iconoclastic riots followed, which 
somewhat alarmed the Council. Latimer's task was rather 
to be the attack upon the hierarchy. He made his reappear- 
ance on New Year's Day, 1548, at Paul's Cross, and referring 
afterwards, when preaching before the Court, to this first 
sermon, he said : " There is a certain man that being asked 


HUGH LATIMER (14— ?-1555) 15 

shortly after if he had been at the sermon that day answered, 
* Yea.' ' I pray you,' said he, ' how you hked him ? ' 
' Marry,' said he, ' even as I Hked him always — a seditious 
fellow.' Oh, Lord, he pinched me there ! " 

He preached on the Sunday of that January, and also on 
Wednesday, Jan. 18, " in the Shrouds," the famous homily 
printed below, which was pubhshed separately the same year. 
The Paul's Cross Sermons called " Of the Plough " were 
followed a httle later by the sermons preached before Edward 
from a pulpit in the Priory Garden. These, then, were all 
open-air harangues, and dealt, in the racy language of an age 
which only called a spade a spade when it could find no plainer 
term, with the ecclesiastical, moral, social and economic evils 
of the time, about the common, daily hfe of which they are 
a mine of information. They tell us what a pig cost, how 
cloth-makers doctored their wares and racked them till seven- 
teen yards became eighteen, how lads learned the use of the 
bow, and many other matters. Speaking against depreciation 
of the currency, Latimer remarked : "I have now gotten one 
fellow more, a companion of sedition, and wot ye who is my 
fellow ? Esay the prophet. I spake but of a little pretty 
shilling, but he speaketh to Jerusalem after another sort, and 
was bold to meddle with their coin. ' Thou proud, thou 
covetous, thou haughty city of Jerusalem. Argentum tuum 
versum est in scoriam — not into testoons but into dross. . . 
Was not this a seditious varlet to tell them this to their 
beards ? " Latimer, however, did more — he told the young 
King in a sermon whom his sisters, the Lady Mary and the 
Lady Ehzabeth ought not to wed with. 

The oratory of the sixteenth century was a fascinating blend 
of homely famiharity and drollery with exquisite bursts of 
eloquence. Latimer's strength lay almost wholly in the 
former. He was " never accounted learned," but was respected 
for the simplicity of his character. It may be doubted, how- 
ever, whether his bluff and breezy style was quite so artless 


and unpremeditated as is usually supposed. Does, for example, 
no smell of the lamp cling to the alliterative elaboration of a 
sentence like this : " For the fault of unpreaching prelates ; 
they are so troubled with lordly living, they be so placed in 
palaces, couched in courts, ruffling in their rents, dancing in 
their dominions, burdened with ambassages, pampering of their 
paunches, hke a monk that maketh his jubilee, munching in 
their mangers and moiling in their gay manors and mansions, 
and so troubled v/ith loitering in their lordships, that they 
cannot attend it ; they are otherwise occupied." 

To write out a sermon was looked upon as only the pre- 
caution of a divine under some cloud of suspicion. Gardiner, 
when invited by Cecil, in that same year, 1548, to preach a 
written discourse before the King, declined, " for that was to 
preach as an offender." But studious preparation went usually 
to public utterances, and their frequently amazing outspoken- 
ness was calculated. Latimer, as Bemher records, " preached 
for the most part every sondaye twoo sermons, to the great 
shame, confusion, and damnation of our fat-bellied, un- 
preaching prelats." Now Lancelot Andrewes said he could 
only preach twice by prating once. But then Andrewes only 
rose at four in the morning, whereas Latimer was out of bed 
by two. 1 

If it be a virtue to preach down to the hearers, instead of 
lifting them up, Latimer possessed it. He could lay down his 
life for conscience sake, and at Mary's accession refused the 
opportunity afforded him of slipping overseas — Smithfield, 
he said, had long groaned for him : though not there, where he 
had preached at the burning of Friar Forrest, did he bear 
fiery testimony. But he was not the man to stem a popular 
stream. " Have at them. Father Latimer, have at them ! " 
cried the boys in the streets as he went to the preaching place. 

^ Every morning ordinarily, winter and summer, about two of the clock 
in the morning, he was at his booke most diligently. . . If England ever had 
a Prophet he was one. (Bernher.) 


The abuses he lashed were unpopular and dying ones. Thus, 
the employment of churchmen — what Wyclif called Caesarean 
clergy — in offices of State was a relic of the mediaeval unity of 
life which the Tudor nobles and lawyers were agog, and well 
able, to suppress. ^ Though transparently sincere, then, 
Latimer must be looked on as a spiritual demagogue. 

The denunciation of the selfishness of Londoners was delivered 
in the hearing of the Mayor and Commonalty, who attended 
the Paul's Cross sermons " in their scarlets." The first one of 
the series " Of the Plough " which Bernher was able to print 
was the fourth, entitled " The Ploughers." It is called " A 
notable sermon of the reverend father Maister Hugh Latymer, 
preached in the Shrowdes at Paules Churche in London on 
the xviij day of January, anno 1548."'' "The Shrouds" 
have been variously explained as a covered shelter along the 
north wall of the Church, the triforium of the cathedral itself, 
and St. Faith's Church in the cathedral crypt, which was 
sometimes called St. Faith-in-the-Shrouds. " Shroud " means 
covering or shelter, and the Paul's Cross sermons were preached 
under cover in inclement weather. 

" My most deare master," exclaims Bernher ; " who is he 
that is so ignorante that did not see the wonderfull handiworke 
of God in that man ? " 

The Ploughers 

" All things which are written are written for our erudition 
and knowledge." All things that are written in God's book, 
in the Bible book, in the book of the holy scripture, are written 

^ When Archbishop Sudbury, being then Chancellor of the realm, was 
butchered by the mob, WycUf afl&rmed that he died in sin. In Stuart times 
Williams, Juxon and Laud held State offices, and as late as 1711 a Bishop, 
Robinson, became Lord Privy Seal. 

^ It is to be read in black-letter among " certayn godly sermons preached 
by the right reverende Father and constant martyr of Christ, Master Hughe 
Latymer . . . gathered and collected by Augustine Bernher, a servaunt of his, 
though not so perfectly as they were uttered, yet faythfully and truly, to the 
singular commoditie and profyt of the christen reader. Imprinted at London 
by John Day. An. 1562." (Bodleian Library). Latimer's power of 
picturesque vituperation is far outstripped by Bemher's own. 

3— (3433) 


to be our doctrine. I told you in my first sermon, honourable 
audience, that I purposed to declare unto you two things, 
The one, what seed should be sown in God's field, in God's 
plough land. And the other, who should be the sowers. 

That is to say, what doctrine is to be taught in Christ's 
church and congregation, and what men should be the teachers 
and preachers of it ? The first part I have told you in the 
three sermons past, in which I have assayed to set forth my 
plough, to prove what I could do. And now I shall tell you 
who be the ploughers ; for God's word is a seed to be sown in 
God's field, that is, the faithful congregation, and the preacher 
is the sower. And it is in the gospel ; " exivit qui seminat 
seminare semen suum " ; "he that soweth, the husbandman, 
the ploughman, went forth to sow his seed." So that a preacher 
is resembled to a ploughman, as it is in another place : " nemo 
admota aratro manu et ci tergo respiciens aptus est regno Dei" ; 
" no man that putteth his hand to the plough, and looketh 
back, is apt for the kingdom of God." {Luke ix.) That is 
to say, let no preacher be negligent in doing his ofhce. Albeit 
this is one of the places that hath been racked, as I told you 
of racking scriptures. And I have been one of them myself 
that hath racked it, I cry God mercy for it ; and have been 
one of them that have believed and expounded it against reli- 
gious persons that would forsake their order which they had 
professed, and would go out of their cloister : whereas indeed 
it toucheth not monkery, nor maketh any thing at all for any 
such matter ; but it is directly spoken of diligent preaching of 
the word of God. 

For preaching of the gospel is one of God's plough-works, 
and the preacher is one of God's ploughmen. Ye may not be 
offended with my similitude, in that I compare preaching to 
the labour and work of ploughing, and the preacher to a plough- 
man : ye may not be offended with this my simiUtude, for I 
have been slandered of some persons for such things. It hath 
been said of me, " Oh, Latimer, nay, as for him, I will never 
believe him while I live, nor never trust him, for he likened 
our blessed Lady to a saffron-bag " : where indeed I never used 
that similitude. But it was, as I have said unto you before 
now, according to that which Peter saw before in the spirit of 
prophecy, and said, that there should come afterward " men 
per quos via veritatis maledictis afficeretur, there should come 


fellows by whom the way of truth should be evil spoken of, 
and slandered. But in case I had used this similitude, it had 
not been to be reproved, but might have been without reproach. 
For I might have said thus ; as the saffron-bag that hath been 
full of saffron, or hath had saffron in it, doth ever after savour 
and smell of the sweet saffron that it contained, so our blessed 
Lady, which conceived and bare Christ in her womb, did ever 
after resemble the manners and virtues of that precious Babe 
that she bare. And what had our blessed Lady been the worse 
for this ? Or what dishonour was this to our blessed Lady ? 
But as preachers must be wary and circumspect, that they give 
not any just occasion to be slandered and ill spoken of by the 
hearers, so must not the auditors be offended without cause. 
For heaven is in the gospel likened to a mustard-seed : it is 
compared also to a piece of leaven ; and as Christ saith, that at 
the last day he will come like a thief ; and what dishonour is 
this to God ? Or what derogation is this to heaven ? Ye may 
not then, I say, be offended with my similitude, for because I 
liken preaching to a ploughman's labour, and a prelate to a 

But now you will ask me whom I call a prelate ? A prelate 
is that man, whatsoever he be, that hath a flock to be taught 
of him ; whosoever hath any spiritual charge in the faithful 
congregation, and whosoever he be that hath cure of souls. 
And well may the preacher and the ploughman be likened 
together : First, for their labour of all seasons of the year ; for 
there is no time of the year in which the ploughman hath not 
some special work to do. As in my coimtry in Leicestershire, 
the ploughman hath a time to set forth, and to assay his plough, 
and other times for other necessary works to be done. And 
then they also may be likened together for the diversity of 
works, and variety of offices that they have to do. For as the 
ploughman first setteth forth his plough, and then tilleth his 
land, and breaketh it in furrows, and sometimes ridgeth it up 
again ; and at another time harroweth it and clotteth it, and 
sometime dungeth it and hedgeth it, diggeth it and weedeth it, 
purgeth and maketh it clean : so the prelate, the preacher, 
hath many diverse offices to do. He hath first a busy work 
to bring his parishioners to a right faith, as Paul calleth it ; and 
not a swerving faith, but to a faith that embraceth Christ, and 
trusteth to his merits ; a lively faith, a justifying faith ; a faith 


that maketh a man righteous, without respect of works : as ye 
have it very well declared and set forth in the Homily. He 
hath then a busy work, I say, to bring his flock to a right 
faith, and then to confirm them in the same faith. Now cast- 
ing them down with the law, and with threatenings of God for 
sin ; now ridging them up again with the gospel, and with the 
promises of God's favour. Now weeding them, by telling them 
their faults, and making them forsake sin ; now clotting them, 
by breaking their stony hearts, and by making them supple- 
hearted, and making them to have hearts of flesh ; that is, soft 
hearts, and apt for doctrine to enter in ; now teaching to know 
God rightly, and to know their duty to God and their neigh- 
bours ; now exhorting them when they know their duty, that 
they do it, and be diligent in it. So that they have a continual 
work to do. Great is their business, and therefore great should 
be their hire. They have great labours, and therefore they 
ought to have good livings, that they may commodiously feed 
their flock ; for the preaching of the word of God unto the 
people is called meat : scripture calleth it meat ; not straw- 
berries, ^ that come but once a year, and tarry not long, but 
are soon gone : but it is meat, it is no dainties. The people 
must have meat that must be familiar and continual, and 
daily given unto them to feed upon. Many make a straw- 
berry of it, ministering it but once a year ; but such do not 
the office of good prelates. For Christ saith, Quis putas est 
servus prudens et fidelis ? Qui dat cibum in tempore ; — " Who 
think you is a wise and a faithful servant ? He that giveth 
meat in due time." So that he must at all times convenient 
preach diligently : therefore saith he, " Who trow ye is a 
faithful servant ? " He speaketh it as though it were a rare 
thing to find such a one, and as though he should say, there be 
but a few of them to find in the world. And how few of them 
there be throughout this realm that give meat to their flock as 
they should do, the Visitors can best tell. Too few, too few, 
the more is the pity, and never so few as now. 

1 This expression which Latimer made use of to designate the non-residents 
of his day, who only visited their cures once a year, became proverbial. A 
bachelor of divinity, named Oxenbridge, in a sermon preached at St. Paul's 
Cross, Jan. 13, 1566, says, " I will shew you the state and condition of this 
my mother Oxford ; for a piteous case it is, that now in all Oxford there is 
not past five or six preachers — I except strawberry preachers." (Dr. Watkins' 


By this then it appeareth that a prelate, or any that hath 
cure of soul, must diligently and substantially work and labour. 
Therefore saith Paul to Timothy, qui episcopatum desiderat, 
hie bonum opus desiderat, " he that desireth to have the office 
of a bishop, or a prelate, that man desireth a good work." Then 
if it be a good work, it is work ; ye can make but a work of it. 
It is God's work, God's plough, and that plough God would 
have still going. Such then as loiter and hve idly are not 
good prelates, or ministers. And of such as do not preach and 
teach, and do their duties, God saith by his prophet Jeremy, 
maledictus qui facit opus Dei fraudulenter , " cursed be the 
man that doth the work of God fraudulently, guilefully or 
deceitfully " ; some books have it negligenter, negligently or 
slackly. How many such prelates, how many such bishops, 
Lord, for thy mercy, are there now in England ? And what 
shall we in this case do ; shall we company with them ? O Lord, 
for Thy mercy ! Shall we not company with them ? O Lord, 
whither shall we flee from them ? But " cursed be he that doth 
the work of God negligently or guilefully." A sore word for 
them that are negligent in discharging their office, or have 
done it fraudulently ; for that is the thing that maketh the 
people ill. 

But true it must be that Christ saith, multi sunt vocati, 
pauci vero electi, " many are called, but few are chosen." 
{Mat. xxii.) Here have I an occasion by the way somewhat 
to say unto you ; yea, for the place that I alleged unto you 
before out of Jeremy, the forty-eighth chapter. And it was 
spoken of a spiritual work of God, a work that was commanded 
to be done, and it was of shedding blood, and of destroying 
the cities of Moab. For, saith he, " Cursed be he that keepeth 
back his sword from shedding of blood." As Saul, when he 
kept back the sword from shedding of blood, at what time he 
was sent against Amalek, was refused of God for being dis- 
obedient to God's commandment, in that he spared Agag the 
king. So that that place of the prophet was spoken of them 
that went to the destruction of the cities of Moab, among the 
which there was one called Nebo, which was much reproved for 
idolatry, superstition, pride, avarice, cruelty, tyranny, and for 
hardness of heart ; and for these sins was plagued of God and 

Now what shall we say of these rich citizens of London ? 


what shall I say of them ? Shall I call them proud men of 
London, malicious men of London, merciless men of London ? 
No, no, I may not say so ; they will be offended with m.e then. 
Yet must I speak. For is there not reigning in London as 
much pride, as much covetousness, as much cruelty, as much 
oppression, and as much superstition, as was in Nebo ? Yes, I 
think, and much more too. Therefore I say, repent, O London ; 
repent, repent. Thou hearest thy faults told thee, amend 
them, amend them. I think, if Nebo had had the preaching 
that thou hast, they v/ould have converted. And you rulers 
and officers, be wise and circumspect, look to your charge, 
and see you do your duties ; and rather be glad to amend 
your ill living than to be angry when you are warned or told of 
your fault. What ado was there made in London at a certain 
man, because he said (and indeed at that time on a just cause,) 
" Burgesses," quoth he, " nay, butterflies." Lord what ado 
there was for that word ; and yet would God they were no 
worse than butterflies. Butterflies do but their nature ; the 
butterfly is not covetous, is not greedy of other men's goods, 
is not full of envy and hatred, is not malicious, is not cruel, 
is not merciless. The butterfly glorieth not in her own deeds, 
nor preferreth the traditions of men before God's word ; it 
committeth not idolatry, nor worshippeth false gods. But 
London cannot abide to be rebuked ; such is the nature of 
man. If they be pricked, they will kick ; if they be rubbed 
on the gall, they will wince ; but yet they will not amend 
their faults, they will not be ill spoken of. But hov/ shall I 
speak well of them ? If you could be content to receive and 
follow the word of God, and favour good preachers, if you 
could bear to be told of your faults, if you could amend when 
you hear of them, if you would be glad to reform that is amiss, 
if I might see any such inclination in you that you would 
leave to be merciless, and begin to be charitable, I would then 
hope well of you, I would then speak well of you. But London 
was never so ill as it is now. In times past, men were full of 
pity and compassion, but now there is no pity ; for in London 
their brother shall die in the streets for cold, he shall lie sick 
at the door between stock and stock, I cannot tell what to call 
it, and perish there for hunger : Was there ever more unmerci- 
fulness in Nebo ? I think not. In times past, when any rich 
man died in London, they were wont to help the poor scholars 


of the universities with exhibition. When any man died, they 
would bequeath great sums of money toward the reUef of the 
poor. When I was a scholar in Cambridge myself, I heard very 
good report of London, and knew many that had rehef of the 
rich men of London ; but now I can hear no such good report, 
and yet I enquire of it, and hearken for it ; but now charity is 
waxen cold, none helpeth the scholar nor yet the poor. And in 
those days, what did they when they helped the scholars ? 
Marry they maintained and gave them livings that were very 
papists, and professed the pope's doctrine : and now that the 
knowledge of God's word is brought to light, and many earnestly 
study and labour to set it forth, now almost no man helpeth 
to maintain them. 

Oh London, London, repent, repent ; for I think God is 
more displeased with London than ever he was with the city of 
Nebo. Repent therefore, repent, London, and remember that 
the same God liveth now that punished Nebo, even the same 
God, and none other ; and he will punish sin as well now as he 
did then : and he will punish the iniquity of London, as well 
as he did them of Nebo. Amend therefore. And ye that be 
prelates, look well to your ofhce ; for right prelating is busy 
labouring, and not lording. Therefore preach and teach, 
and let your plough be doing. Ye lords, I say, that live like 
loiterers, look well to your office, the plough is your office 
and charge. If you live idle and loiter, you do not your duty, 
you follow not your vocation ; let your plough therefore be 
going, and not cease, that the ground may bring forth fruit. 

But now methinketh I hear one say unto me : Wot ye what 
you say ? Is it a work ? Is it a labour ? How then hath it 
happened that we have had so many hundred years so many 
unpreaching prelates, lording loiterers, and idle ministers ? 
Ye would have me here to make answer, and to show the cause 
thereof. Nay, this land is not for me to plough, it is too stony, 
too thorny, too hard for me to plough. They have so many 
things that make for them, so many things to say for them- 
selves, that it is not for my weak team to plough them. They 
have to say for themselves long customs, ceremonies and autho- 
rity, placing in Parliament, and many things more. And I 
fear me this land is not yet ripe to be ploughed : for, as the 
saying is, it lacketh weathering : this gear lacketh weathering, 
at leastways it is not for me to plough. For what shall I look 


for among thorns, but pricking and scratching ? What among 
stones, but stumbhng ? What, I had almost said among ser- 
pents, but stinging ? But this much I dare say, that since 
lording and loitering hath come up, preaching hath come down 
contrary to the Apostles' times : for they preached and lorded 
not, and now they lord and preach not. For they that be lords 
will ill go to plough : it is no meet office for them ; it is not 
seeming for their estate. Thus came up lording loiterers ; thus 
crept in unpreaching prelates, and so have they long continued. 
For how many unlearned prelates have we now at this day ? 
And no marvel ; for if the ploughmen that now be were made 
lords, they would clean give over ploughing ; they would leave 
off their labour, and fall to lording outright, and let the plough 
stand : and then, both ploughs not walking, nothing should 
be in the commonweal but hunger. For ever since the prelates 
were made lords and nobles, the plough standeth, there is no 
work done, the people starve. They hawk, they hunt, they 
card, they dice, they pastime in their prelacies with gallant 
gentlemen, with their dancing minions, and with their fresh 
companions, so that ploughing is set aside. And by the lord- 
ing and loitering, preaching and ploughing is clean gone. And 
thus if the ploughmen of the country were as negligent in their 
office as prelates be, we should not long live, for lack of susten- 
ance. And as it is necessary for to have this ploughing for the 
sustentation of the body, so must we also have the other for the 
satisfaction of the soul, or else we cannot live long ghostly. For 
as the body wasteth and consumeth away for lack of bodily 
meat, so doth the soul pine away for default of ghostly meat. 
But there be two kinds of enclosing, to let or hinder both these 
kinds of ploughing ; the one is an enclosing to let or hinder the 
bodily ploughing, and the other to let or hinder the holiday 
ploughing, the Church ploughing. 

The bodily ploughing is taken in and enclosed through singular 
commodity. For what man will let go or diminish his private 
commodity for a commonwealth ? And who will sustain 
any damage for the respect of a public commodity ? The other 
plough also no man is diligent to set forward, nor no man will 
hearken to it. But to hinder and let it all men's ears are open ; 
yea, and a great many of this kind of ploughmen, which are 
very busy, and would seem to be very good workmen, I fear 
me, some be rather mock-gospellers than faithful ploughmen. 


I know many myself that profess the gospel, and live nothing 
thereafter. I know them, and I speak it with a heavy heart, 
there is as little charity and good living in them as in any other ; 
according to that which Christ said in the gospel to the great 
number of people that followed him, as though they had had 
an earnest zeal to his doctrine, whereas, indeed, they had it not ; 
non quia vidistis signa, sed quia comedistis de panihus. " Ye 
follow me," saith he," not because ye have seen the signs and 
miracles that I have done ; but because ye have eaten the 
bread, and refreshed your bodies, therefore you follow me." So 
that I think, many one now-a-days professeth the gospel for the 
living's sake, not for the love they bear to God's word. But 
they that will be true ploughmen must work faithfully for 
God's sake, for the edifying of their brethren. And as dih- 
gently as the husbandman plougheth for the sustentation of the 
body, so diligently must the prelates and ministers labour for 
the feeding of the soul ; both the ploughs must still be doing, 
as most necessary for man. And wherefore are magistrates 
ordained, but that the tranquillity of the commonweal may be 
confirmed, limiting both ploughs ? 

But now for the fault of unpreaching prelates, methink I 
could guess what might be said for excusing of them. They 
are so troubled with lordly living, they be so placed in palaces, 
couched in courts, ruffling in their rents, dancing in their domin- 
ions, burdened with ambassages, pampering of their paunches, 
like a monk that maketh his jubilee ; munching in their man- 
gers and moiling in their gay manors and mansions, and so 
troubled with loitering in their lordships, that they cannot 
attend it. They are otherwise occupied, some in the king's 
matters, some are ambassadors, some of the privy council, 
some to furnish the court, some are lords of the parliament, 
some are presidents, and some comptrollers of mints. 

Well, well, is this their duty ? Is this their office ? Is 
this their calHng ? Should we have ministers of the Church 
to be comptrollers of the mints ? Is this a meet office for a 
priest that hath cure of souls ? Is this his charge ? I would 
here ask one question ; I would fain know who controUeth the 
devil at home in his parish, while he controUeth the mint ? 
If the apostles might not leave the office of preaching to the 
deacons, shall one leave it for minting ? I cannot tell you ; but 
the saying is, that since priests have been minters money hath 


been worse than it was before. And they say that the evilness 
of money hath made all things dearer. And in this behalf I 
must speak to England. Hear, my country, England, as 
Paul said in his first epistle to the Corinthians, the sixth 
chapter ; for Paul was no sitting bishop, but a walking and a 
preaching bishop. But when he went from them, he left there 
behind him the plough going still ; for he wrote unto them, and 
rebuked them for going to law, and pleading their causes before 
heathen judges. " Is there," saith he, " utterly among you 
no wise man, to be an arbitrator in matters of judgment ? 
What, not one of all that can judge between brother and 
brother ; but one brother goeth to law with another, and that 
imder heathen judges ? Constituite contemptos qui sunt in 
ecclesia, etc. Appoint them judges that are most abject and 
vile in the congregation." Which he speaketh in rebuking 
them ; " for," saith he, " ad erubescentiam vestram dico. I 
speak it to your shame." So, England, I speak it to thy 
shame ; is there never a nobleman to be a lord president, but 
it must be a prelate ? Is there never a wise man in the realm 
to be a comptroller of the mint ? I speak it to your shame. I 
speak it to your shame. If there be never a wise man, make a 
water-bearer, a tinker, a cobbler, a slave, a page, comptroller 
of the mint : make a mean gentleman, a groom, a yeoman, 
or a poor beggar, lord president. 

Thus I speak, not that I would have it so ; but to your 
shame, if there be never a gentleman meet nor able to be lord 
president. For why are not the noblemen and young gentle- 
men of England so brought up in knowledge of God, and in 
learning, that they may be able to execute offices in the com- 
monweal ? The king hath a great many of wards, and I trow 
there is a court of wards ; why is there not a school for the 
wards, as well as there is a court for their lands ? Why are 
they not set in schools where they may learn ? Or why are 
they not sent to the universities, that they may be able to serve 
the king when they come to age ? If the wards and young 
gentlemen were well brought up in learning, and in the know- 
ledge of God, they would not when they come to age so much 
give themselves to other vanities. And if the nobility be well 
trained in godly learning, the people would follow the same 
train. For truly, such as the noblemen be, such will the people 
be. And now, the only cause why noblemen be not made lord 


presidents is because they have not been brought up in 

Therefore for the love of God appoint teachers and school- 
masters, you that have charge of youth ; and give the teachers 
stipends worthy their pains, that they may bring them up in 
grammar, in logic, in rhetoric, in philosophy, in the civil law, 
and in that which I cannot leave unspoken of, the word of 
God. Thanks be unto God, the nobility otherwise is very 
well brought up in learning and godliness, to the great joy 
and comfort of England ; so that there is now good hope in the 
youth that we shall another day have a flourishing common- 
weal, considering their godly education. Yea, and there be 
already noblemen enough, though not so many as I would 
wish, able to be lord presidents, and wise men enough for the 
mint. And as unmeet a thing it is for bishops to be lord pre- 
sidents, or priests to be minters, as it was for the Corinthians 
to plead matters of variance before heathen judges. It is also 
a slander to the noblemen, as though they lacked wisdom and 
learning to be able for such offices, or else were no men of 
conscience, or else were not meet to be trusted, and able for 
such offices. And a prelate hath a charge and cure other- 
wise ; and therefore he cannot discharge his duty and be a 
lord president too. For a presidentship requireth a whole 
man ; and a bishop cannot be two men. A bishop hath his 
office, a flock to teach, to look unto ; and therefore he cannot 
meddle with another office, which alone requireth a whole 
man. He should therefore give it over to whom it is meet, 
and labour in his own business ; as Paul writeth to the Thes- 
salonians : " Let every man do his own business, and follow 
his calling." Let the priest preach, and the nobleman handle 
the temporal matters. Moses was a marvellous man, a good 
man. Moses was a wonderful fellow, and did his duty, being 
a married man ; we lack such as Moses was. Well, I would 
all men would look to their duty, as God hath called them, 
and then we should have a flourishing Christian commonweal. 

And now I would ask a strange question : who is the most 
diligentest bishop and prelate in all England, that passeth all 
the rest in doing his office ? I can tell, for I know him who it 
is ; I know him well. But now I think I see you listening and 
hearkening that I should name him. There is one that passeth 
all the other, and is the most diligent prelate and preacher in 


all England. And will ye know who it is ? I will tell you : 
it is the devil. He is the most dihgent preacher of all other ; 
he is never out of his diocese ; he is never from his cure ; ye 
shall never find him unoccupied ; he is ever in his parish ; he 
keepeth residence at all times ; ye shall never find him out of 
the way ; call for him when you will he is ever at home ; the 
diligentest preacher in all the realm ; he is ever at his plough ; 
no lording nor loitering can hinder him ; he is ever applying 
his business, ye shall never find him idle I warrant you. And 
his office is to hinder religion, to maintain superstition, to set 
up idolatry, to teach all kind of popery. He is ready as can 
be wished for to set forth his plough ; to devise as many ways 
as can be to deface and obscure God's glory. Where the devil 
is resident, and hath his plough going, there away with books 
and up with candles ; away with bibles and up with beads ; 
away Avith the light of the gospel and up with the light of 
candles, yea, at noon-days. Where the devil is resident, that 
he may prevail, up with all superstition and idolatry : censing, 
painting of images, candles, palms, ashes, holy water, and new 
service of men's inventing ; as though man can invent a better 
way to honour God with than God himself hath appointed. 
Down with Christ's cross, up with purgatory pickpurse, up 
with him, the popish purgatory, I mean. Away with clothing 
the naked, the poor and impotent, up with decking of images, 
and gay garnishing of stocks and stones : up with man's 
traditions and his laws, down with God's traditions and his 
most holy word. Down with the old honour due to God, 
and up with the new god's honour. Let all things be done in 
Latin : there must be nothing but Latin, not so much as 
memento homo quod cinis es, et in cinerem reverteris. 
" Remember man that thou art ashes, and into ashes shalt thou 
return " : which be the words that the minister speaketh unto 
the ignorant people, when he giveth them ashes upon Ash- 
wednesday, but it must be spoken in Latin. God's word may 
in no wise be translated into English. 

Oh that our prelates would be as dihgent to sow the com of 
good doctrine as Satan is to sow cockle and darnel ! And 
this is the devilish ploughing, the which worketh to have things 
in Latin, and letteth the fruitful edification. But here some 
man will say to me, What, sir, are ye so privy of the devil's 
counsel that ye know all this to be true ? — Truly I know him 


too well, and have obeyed him a little too much in condes- 
cending to some follies ; and I know him as other men do, yea 
that he is ever occupied, and ever busy in following his plough. 
I know by St. Peter, which saith of him, Sicut leo rugiens circuit 
queer ens quern devoret, " he goeth about like a roaring lion, 
seeking whom he may devour." I would have this text well 
viewed and examined, every word of it. " Circuit," he goeth 
about in every comer of his diocese ; he goeth on visitation 
daily, he leaveth no place of his cure unvisited : he walketh 
round about from place to place, and ceaseth not. " Sicut 
leo," as a hon, that is, strongly, boldly, and proudly ; stately 
and fiercely with haughty looks, with his proud countenances, 
with his stately braggings. " Rugiens," roaring ; for he 
letteth not slip any occasion to speak or to roar out when 
he seeth his time. " Quierens," he goeth about seeking, and 
not sleeping, as our bishops do ; but he seeketh diligently, 
he searcheth dihgently all corners, whereas he may have his 
prey. He roveth abroad in every place of his diocese ; he 
standeth not still, he is never at rest, but ever in hand with his 
plough, that it may go forward. But there was never such a 
preacher in England as he is. Who is able to tell his diligent 
preaching, which every day and every hour laboureth to sow 
cockle and darnel, that he may bring out of form, and out of 
estimation and renown, the institution of the Lord's supper 
and Christ's cross ? For there he lost his right ; for Christ 
said. Nunc judicium est mundi, princeps seculi hujus ejicietur 
for as. Et sicut exaltavit Moses serpentem in deserto, ita exaltari 
oportet filium hominis. Et cum exaltatus fuero d, terra, omnia 
traham ad meipsum. " Now is the judgment of this world, 
and the prince of this world shall be cast out. And as Moses 
did lift up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of 
Man be lift up. And when I shall be lift up from the earth 
I will draw all things unto myself." {John iii.) For the devil 
was disappointed of his purpose ; for he thought all to be his 
own : and when he had once brought Christ to the cross, he 
thought all cocksure. 

But there lost he all reigning : for Christ said. Omnia traham 
ad meipsum, " I will draw all things unto myself." He 
meaneth, drawing of man's soul to salvation. And that he 
said he would do per semetipsum by his own self ; not by any 
other body's sacrifice. He meant by his own sacrifice on the 


cross, where he offered himself for the redemption of mankind ; 
and not the sacrifice of the mass to be offered by another. For 
who can offer him but himself ? He was both the offerer and 
the offering. And this is the mark at the which the devil 
shooteth, to evacuate the cross of Christ, and to mingle the 
institution of the Lord's supper ; the which although he cannot 
bring to pass, yet he goeth about by his sleights and subtil 
means to frustrate the same ; and these fifteen hundred years 
he hath been a doer, only purposing to evacuate Christ's death, 
and to make it of small efficacy and virtue. For whereas 
Christ, according as the serpent was lifted up in the wilderness, 
so would he himself be exalted ; that thereby as many as 
trusted in him should have salvation ; but the devil would 
none of that. They would have us saved by a daily oblation 
propitiatory ; by a sacrifice expiatory, or remissory. 

Now if I should preach in the country, among the unlearned, 
I would tell what propitiatory, expiatory, and remissory is ; 
but here is a learned auditory : yet for them that be unlearned 
I will expound it. Propitiatory, expiatory, remissory, or satis- 
factory, for they signify all one thing in effect, and is nothing 
else but a thing whereby to obtain remission of sins, and to 
have salvation. And this way the devil used to evacuate the 
death of Christ, that we might have affiance in other things, as 
in the daily sacrifice of the priest ; whereas Christ would have 
us to trust in his only sacrifice. So he was agmis occisus 
ah origine mundi, " the Lamb that hath been slain from the 
beginning of the world " ; and therefore he is called juge 
sacrificium, " a continual sacrifice " ; and not for the con- 
tinuance of the mass, as the blanchers have blanched it, and 
wrested it ; and as I myself did once mistake it. But Paul 
saith, per semetipsum purgatio facta. " By himself, and by 
none other, Christ made purgation and satisfaction for the 
whole world." 

" Would Christ this word, by himself, had been better weighed 
and looked upon, and in sanctificationem, to make them holy ; 
for he is juge sacrificium a continual sacrifice, in effect, fruit 
and operation ; that like as they, which seeing the serpent 
hang up in the desert, were put in remembrance of Christ's 
death, in whom as many as believed were saved , so all men 
that trusted in the death of Christ shall be saved, as well 
they that were before as they that came after. For he was 


a continual sacrifice, as I said, in effect, fruit, operation, and 
virtue. As though he had from the beginning of the world, 
and continually should to the world's end, hang still on the 
cross ; and he is as fresh hanging on the cross now, to them 
that believe and trust in him, as he was fifteen hundred years 
ago, when he was crucified. 

Then let us trust upon his only death, and look for none 
other sacrifice propitiatory than the same bloody sacrifice, 
the lively sacrifice ; and not the dry sacrifice, but a bloody 
sacrifice. For Christ himself said, consummatum est, "it is 
perfectly finished." " I have taken at my Father's hand the 
dispensation of redeeming mankind, I have wrought man's 
redemption, and have despatched the matter." Why then 
mingle ye him ? Why do ye divide him ? Why make you of 
him more sacrifices than one ? Paul saith, Pascha nostru7n 
immolatus est Christus. " Christ our passover is offered up." 
So that the thing is done, and Christ hath done it, and he hath 
done it semel, once for all : and it was a bloody sacrifice, not a 
dry sacrifice. 

Why then, it is not the mass that availeth or profiteth for 
the quick and the dead. Wo worth thee, O devil, wo worth 
thee, that hast prevailed so far and so long ; that hast made 
England to worship false gods, forsaking Christ their Lord. 
Wo worth thee devil, wo worth thee devil, and all thy angels. 
If Christ by his death draweth all things to himself, and 
draweth all men to salvation, and to heavenly bliss, that trust 
in him, then the priests at the mass, and the popish mass, I 
say, what can they draw, when Christ draweth all, but lands 
and goods from the right heirs ? The priests draw goods and 
riches, benefices, and promotions to themselves ; and such as 
believe in their sacrifices they draw to the devil. But Christ is 
he that draweth souls unto him by his bloody sacrifice. 
What have we to do then but epulari in Domino, to eat in the 
Lord at his supper ? 

What other service have we to do to him, and what other 
sacrifice have we to offer, but the mortification of our flesh ? 
What other oblation have we to make, but of obedience, of 
good living, of good works, and of helping our neighbours ? 
But as for our redemption, it is done already, it cannot be 
better : Christ hath done that thing so well, that it cannot be 
amended. It cannot be devised how to make that any better 


than he hath done it. But the devil, by the help of that 
Italian bishop yonder, his chaplain, hath laboured by all 
means that he might, to frustrate the death of Christ and the 
merits of his passion. And they have devised for that purpose 
to make us believe in other vain things by his pardons ; as to 
have remission of sins for praying on hallowed beads, for 
drinking of the bakehouse bowl ; as a canon of Waltham 
Abbey once told me, that whensoever they put their loaves of 
bread into the oven, as many as drank of the pardon bowl 
should have pardon for drinking of it. A mad thing, to give 
pardon to a bowl. Then to Pope Alexander's holy water, 
to hallowed bells, palms, candles, ashes, and what not ? And 
of these things, every one hath taken away some part of Christ's 
sanctification ; every one hath robbed some part of Christ's 
passion and cross, and hath mingled Christ's death, and hath 
been made to be propitiatory and satisfactory, and to put 
away sin. Yea, and Alexander's holy water yet at this day 
remaineth in England, and is used for a remedy against spirits 
and to chase away di veils. Yea, and I would this had been the 
worst. I would this were the worst. But wo worth thee, O 
devil, that hast prevailed to evacuate Christ's cross, and to 
mingle the Lord's supper. These be the Italian bishop's 
devices, and the devil hath pricked at this mark to frustrate 
the cross of Christ : he shot at this mark long before Christ 
came, he shot at it four thousand years before Christ hanged on 
the cross, or suffered his passion. 

For the brazen serpent was set up in the wilderness, to put 
men in remembrance of Christ's coming ; that like as they 
which beheld the brazen serpent were healed of their bodily 
disease, so they that looked spiritually upon Christ that was 
to come, in him should be saved spiritually from the devil. 
The serpent was set up in memory of Christ to come, but the 
devil found means to steal away the memory of Christ's com- 
ing, and brought the people to worship the serpent itself, and 
to cense him, to honour him, and to offer to him, to worship 
him, and to make an idol of him. And this was done by the 
market-men that I told you of. And the clerk of the market 
did it for the lucre and advantage of his master, that thereby 
his honour might increase ; for by Christ's death he could have 
but smaU worldly advantage. And so even now so hath he 
certain blanchers belonging to the market, to let and stop the 


light of the gospel, and to hinder the king's proceedings in 
setting forth the word and glory of God. And when the King's 
majesty, with the advice of his honourable council, goeth 
about to promote God's word, and to set an order in matters 
of rehgion, there shall not lack blanchers that will say : As 
for images, whereas they have used to be censed, and to 
have candles offered unto them, none be so foolish to do it 
to the stock or stone, or to the image itself ; but it is done to 
God and his honour before the image. And though they 
should abuse it, these blanchers will be ready to whisper the 
King in the ear, and to tell him that this abuse is but a small 
matter, and that the same, with all other like abuses in the 
Church, may be reformed easily. " It is but a little abuse," say 
they, "and it may be easily amended. But it should not be 
taken in hand at the first, for fear of trouble or further incon- 
veniences. The people will not bear sudden alterations ; an 
insurrection may be made after sudden mutation, which may 
be to the great harm and loss of the realm. Therefore all 
things shall be well, but not out of hand, for fear of further 
business." These be the blanchers that hitherto have stopped 
the word of God, and hindered the true setting forth of the same. 
There be so many put-offs, so many put-byes, so many respects 
and considerations of worldly wisdom. And I doubt not but there 
were blanchers in the old time to whisper in the ear of good 
King Ezekias, for the maintenance of idolatry done to the 
brazen serpent, as well as there hath been now of late, and be 
now, that can blanch the abuse of images, and other like things. 

But good King Ezekias would not be so blinded ; he was 
hke to Apollos, fervent in spirit. He would give no ear to 
the blanchers ; he was not moved with the worldly respects, 
with these prudent considerations, with these policies : he 
feared not insurrections of the people : he feared not lest his 
people would not bear the glory of God, but he (without any 
of these respects, or policies, or considerations, like a good 
king, for God's sake and for conscience sake) by and by 
plucked do'wn the brazen serpent, and destroyed it utterly, 
and beat it to powder. He out of hand did cast out all images, 
he destroyed all idolatry, and clearly did extirpate all super- 
stition. He would not hear these blanchers and worldly wise 
men, but without delay foUoweth God's cause, and destroyeth 
all idolatry out of hand. 

3— (2433) 


And good hope there is that it shall be hkewise here in 
England ; for the King's majesty is so brought up in knowledge, 
virtue and godliness that it is not to be mistrusted but that 
we shall have all things well, and that the glory of God shall 
be spread abroad throughout all parts of the realm, if the pre- 
lates will diligently apply their plough, and be preachers 
rather than lords. But our blanchers, which will be lords, 
and no labourers, when they are commanded to go and be 
resident upon their cures, and preach in their benefices, they 
would say. Why ? I have set a deputy there ; I have a deputy 
that looketh well to my flock, and the which shall discharge 
my duty. A deputy, quoth he, I looked for that word all 
this while. And what a deputy must he be, trow ye ? Even 
one like himself ; he must be a canonist : that is to say, one 
that is brought up in the study of the pope's laws and decrees ; 
one that will set forth papistry as well as himself will do ; and 
one that will maintain all superstition and idolatry ; and one 
that will nothing at aU, or else very weakly, resist the devil's 
plough ; yea, happy it is if he take no part with the devil : and 
where he should be an enemy to him, it is well if he take not 
the devil's part against Christ. 

But in the mean time, the prelates take their pleasures. They 
are lords and no labourers ; but the devil is diligent at his 
plough. He is no unpreaching prelate : He is no lordly 
loiterer from his cure ; but a busy ploughman ; so that among 
aU the prelates, and among all the pack of them that have cure, 
the devil shall go for my money, for he still applieth his busi- 
ness. Therefore, ye unpreaching prelates, learn of the devil : 
to be diligent in doing of your office, learn of the devil : and if 
you \vi\[ not learn of God, nor good men, for shame learn of 
the devil ; ad erubescentiam vestram dico, " I speak it for 
your shame " : If you will not learn of God, nor good men, 
to be diligent in your office, learn of the devil. Howbeit there 
is now very good hope that the King's majesty, being by the 
help of good governance of his most honourable counsellors 
trained and brought up in learning and knowledge of God's 
word, will shortly provide a remedy, and set an order herein. 
Which thing that it may so be, let us pray for him. Pray for 
him, good people ; pray for him. Ye have great cause and 
need to pray for him. 


In the year that Latimer died at the stake Lancelot Andrewes 
was bom, and Hved to take part in the Coronation of Charles L 
His pulpit style belongs to the Elizabethan era, midway between 
the raciness of the Edwardian preachers and the Jacobean 
eloquence of Donne. From the modern, reading his sermons 
in cold print, they demand a little effort of appreciation. 
Pattison sneers at Andrewe's "witty conundrum-making." 
Hare speaks of him as " a writer of such a singular, abrupt, 
jagged, tangled style, in reading whom one seems to be walking 
through a thicket crammed with thoughts and thoughtlets, 
and is caught at every tenth step by some out-jutting briar." 
A generation after Andrewes' death Aubrey wrote : — 

" He had not that smooth way of oratory as now. It was a 
shrewd and severe animadversion of a Scotish lord who, when 
King James asked him how he hked Bishop A.'s sermon, 
sayd that he was learned, that he did play with his text as a 
Jack-an-apes does, who takes up anything and tosses and 
plays with it, and then he takes up another and playes a little 
with it. Here's a pretty thing, and there's a pretty thing ! " ^ 

But, as regards Aubrey, no generation tolerates the taste 
of the age just before it, while the Scots intellect is not very 
appreciative of playfulness. Again, it is in a vein of Georgian 
gentility that Birch asserts that : — 

" The great corruption of the oratory of the pulpit may be 
ascribed to Dr. Andrewes, whose high reputation on other 
accounts gave a sanction to that vicious taste introduced by 
him several years before the death of Queen Elizabeth. The 
pedantry of King James I's court completed the degeneracy 
of all true eloquence, so that the most applauded preachers of 
that time are now insupportable." ^ 

^ Brief Lives, ed. Clarke, i, 31. 

2 Life of Tillotson, ed. 1752, pp. 19, 20. 



On the other hand, Andrewes' contemporaries, who knew 
what Enghsh was and who actually heard him, styled him 
" the Star of preachers " and " an Angel in the pulpit." It was 
a fastidiously intellectual age. Yet Andrewes' preaching 
fascinated Elizabeth and James, two very acute judges, and 
left a sting behind, we are told, even in courtiers' consciences. 
Harington mentions Henry Nowell, " one of the greatest gallants 
of those times, who swore, as he was a gentleman, he never 
heard man speak with such a spirit." His dehvery doubtless 
added much to his matter. Fuller declares that " such 
plagiaries who have stolen his sermons could never steal his 
preaching." And, whereas a modern Presbyterian writer. 
Dr. Alexander Whyte, declares that the magnificent doctrine 
of justification " never gave Andrewes wings, never fused or 
took the slag out of his style : he can pray as no other man 
can pray, but he cannot preach, to be called preaching," 
Winstanley, not many years after Andrewes' death, tells us 
that "what was storied of Orpheus may fitly be applied to 
this learned Bishop, who with his heavenly Oratory drew 
many stony senseless hearts out of the Captivity of Satan 
into the glorious freedom of the Gospel of Jesus Christ." ^ 

Andrewes' chaplain and successor, Bishop Buckeridge, 
believed that " few of his solemn sermons but were thrice 
between the hammer and the anvil before they were preacht, 
and he ever mishked often and loose preaching without study 
of antiquity." Buckeridge and Laud, in pubhshing their 
master's sermons, by King Charles's command, in 1630, 
deprecated the estimation of them by their " paper life," 
but felt sure that " the Christian world hath not many such 
bodies of sermons as we here present." The King commended 
them to his children when they took their last leave of him 
in prison. 

The one here printed, on the " Power of the Keys," was one 
of the last preached before Elizabeth, viz., on March 30, 1600, 

1 Worthies, 1659. 

LANCELOT ANDREWES (1555-1626) 37 

at Whitehall, and created a good deal of stir. Rowland White 
wrote thus about it to Sir Robert Sydney. ^ 

" Dr. Andrewes made a strange sermon at Court on Sunday ; 
his text was the xx. chapter of the Gospel of St. John, the 
23rd verse, touching the forgiveness of sins upon earth. That 
contrition, without confession and absolution and deeds 
worthy of repentance, was not sufficient. That the ministers 
had the two keys of power and knowledge delivered unto them ; 
that whose sins soever they remitted upon earth should be 
remitted in heaven. The Court is full of it, for such doctrine 
was not usually taught there. I hear he was with Mr. Secretary 
about it, it may be to satisfy him." 

Yet the authoritative and sacerdotal side of Christianity 
was not nearly so much depressed in the Elizabethan time as 
the ceremonial, and Andrewes' own stall in St. Paul's cathedral, 
that of St. Pancras, carried with it the office of penitentiary 
or confessioner. Indeed there was a " Confessor of the House- 
hold " at the English Court till 1859. And apart from " ear- 
confession," which was^still common, the ancient system of open 
ecclesiastical discipline remained in force. Transplanted, indeed, 
into the Calvinistic " regiment," it flourished there exceedingly. 
Nor was the English Prayer Book ambiguous on the subject of 
penance. It is not quite easy, then, to understand what 
Elizabeth's courtiers found in the sermon to carp at. 

Of the Power of the Keys 

Whosesoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them ; and whosesoever ye 
retain, they are retained. — St. John xx, 23. 

They be the words of our Saviour Christ to His Apostles ; 
a part of the first words which He spake to them at His 
Epiphany, or first apparition after He rose from the dead. 
And they contain a commission by Him granted to the Apostles, 
which is the sum and contents of this verse. 

Which commission is His first largesse after His rising again. 
For at His appearing to them it pleased Him not to come 

1 Sydney Letters, ii, 189. 


empty but with a blessing, and to bestow on them and on the 
world by them, as the first fruits of His resurrection, this 
commission ; a part of that commission which the sinful 
world most of all stood in need of, for remission of sins. 

To the granting whereof He proceedeth not without some 
solemnity or circumstance, well worthy to be remembered. 

For first, verse the twenty-first. He saith, " As my Father 
sent Me, so send I you " ; which is their authorizing, or giving 
them their credence. 

Secondly, verse the twenty-second. He doth breathe upon 
them with the Holy Ghost ; which is their enabhng or 
furnishing thereto. 

And having so authorized and enabled them, now in this 
verse here He giveth them their commission. 

First, therefore. He imparteth to them a power, a power 
over sins ; over sins, either for the remitting or the retaining 
of them, as the persons shall be quahfied. 

And after, to this power He addeth a promise (as the lawyers 
term it) of ratihabitation, that He will ratify and make it good, 
that His power shall accompany this power and the lawful 
use of it in His Church for ever. 

And very agreeably is this power now bestowed by Him 
upon His resurrection. Not so conveniently before His death, 
because till then " He had not made His soul an offering for 
sin " ; nor till then had He shed His " blood, without which 
there is no remission of sins." Therefore it was promised 
before but not given till now, because it was convenient there 
should be solutio before there was ahsolutio. Not before He 
was risen then. 

And again, no longer than till He was risen, not till He 
was ascended. First, to shew that the remission of sins is 
the undivided and immediate effect of His death. Secondly, 
to show how much the world needed it, for which cause He 
would not withhold it, no, not so much as one day — for this 
was done in the very day of His resurrection. Thirdly, but 
especially, to set forth His great love and tender care over us, 
in this, that as soon as He had accomplished His own resur- 
rection, even presently upon it. He sets in hand with ours, and 
beginneth the first part of it the very first day of His rising. 

The Scripture maketh mention of a first and second death, 
and from them two of a first and second resurrection. Both 


expressly set down in one verse : " Happy is he that hath his 
part in the first resurrection, for over such the second death 
hath no power." Understanding by the first the death of the 
soul by sin, and the rising thence to the hfe of grace ; by the 
second the death of the body by corruption, and the rising 
thence to the hfe of glory. 

Christ truly is the Saviour of the whole man, both soul and 
body, from the first and second death. 

But beginning first with the first, that is with sin, the death 
of the soul and the rising from it. So is the method of divinity 
prescribed by Himself : first, to cleanse that which is within — 
the soul ; then that which is without — the body. And so 
is the method of physick, first to cure the cause, and then the 
disease. Now the cause, or, as the Apostle calleth it, " the 
sting of death, is sin." Therefore first to remove sin, and then 
death afterwards. For the cure of sin being performed, the 
other will follow of his own accord. As St. John telleth us, 
" He that hath His part in the first resurrection shall not 
fail of it in the second." The " first resurrection " then from 
sin is it which our Saviour Christ here goeth about, whereto 
there is no less power required than a divine power. For look, 
what power is necessary to raise the dead body out of the 
dust, the very same every way is requisite to raise the dead 
soul out of sin. For which cause the remission of sin is an 
article of faith, no less than the resurrection of the body. 
For in very deed a resurrection it is, and so it is termed no less 
than that. 

To the service and ministry of which divine work a com- 
mission is here granted to the Apostles. And first, they have 
here their sending from God the Father, their inspiring from 
God the Holy Ghost, their commission from God the Son ; 
that being thus sent from the Father, by the power of the Holy 
Ghost, in the person of Christ, they may perform the office, 
or, as the Apostle calleth it, the embassage, of reconcihng 
sinners unto God, to which they are appointed. And so much 
for the sum. and dependence of this Scripture. 

The terms of remitting and retaining may be taken many 
ways. To the end, then, that we may the more clearly conceive 
that which shall be said, it will be expedient that first of all 
we understand in what sense especially and according to what 
resemblance these terms are to be taken. 


This may we best do out of our Saviour Christ's own com- 
mission. For this of the Apostles is nothing else but a branch 
out of His, which He Himself as man had here upon earth. 
For as man He Himself was sent and anointed with the Spirit, 
and proceeded by commission. 

His commission we find in the fourth chapter of Luke, which 
He Himself read in the synagogue at Nazareth at His first 
entering on it ; which is originally recorded in the sixty- 
first chapter of Isaiah. Wherein among others this power is 
one : to preach d4>eaiv, that is, " remission," as it is turned 
here, or " deliverance," as it is turned there ; but the word 
is one in both places, and that respectively to " captives," 
and, as it foUoweth in that place of Esay, " to them that are 
bound the opening of the prison." 

Which very term of " captives," or such as are in prison, 
doth open unto us with what reference or respect this term 
of remitting, or letting go, is to be conceived. And as it was 
in His, so must it be understood here in this, since this is but 
derived from that of Christ's. 

The mind of the Holy Ghost then, as in other places by 
diverse other resemblances, so in this here, is to compare the 
sinner's case to the estate of a person imprisoned. And, 
indeed, whoso well weigheth the place, it cannot well be taken 
otherwise. For not only here but elsewhere, where this power 
is expressed, it seemeth ever to be with reference as it were 
to parties committed. The very term of " the keys " — where- 
in it was promised, and wherein it is most usually delivered 
— the terms of opening and shutting, seem to have relation 
as it were to the prison-gate. The terms of binding and loosing, 
as it were, to the fetters or bands. And these here of letting 
forth or still detaining, all and every of them seem to have an 
evident relation to the prisoner's estate, as if sin were a prison, 
and the case of sinners hke their's that are shut up. 

Verily, as sin at the first in committing seemeth sweet, that 
men cannot be got to spit it out (saith Job) but hold it close 
under their tongues till they have swallowed it down ; but 
after it is committed, the sinner findeth then that it is malum 
et amarum dereliquisse Dominum, saith the Prophet ; that it 
turneth to a bitter and a choleric matter, of which there 
breedeth "a worm" which never leaveth gnawing: even so 
doth sin at the first also seem a matter of liberty. For a 


liberty it is not to be restrained ; not to be, as the Apostle 
speaketh, committed to Moses, to be " kept and shut up under 
the law " ; not to be forbidden any " fruit," under which very 
term the serpent did persuade it ; but when it is done and 
past, then shall a man feel a pinching or straitness in his 
soul, termed by the apostle aTevox<>ipia., which properly signi- 
fieth the pain which they suffer that are shut up in a narrow 
room or some place of little ease. 

So speaketh Solomon of sin : " His own wickedness shall 
attach the sinner, and he shall be holden or pinioned with the 
cords of his own sin." So St. Peter to Simon Magus : "I 
perceive thou art (to express the former resemblance) in the 
gall of bitterness, and (to express the latter) in the bond of 
iniquity." And St. Paul, that sinners instead of having 
Moses to their keeper become the devil's captives, and are of 
him holden and taken " at his will " and pleasure. 

Truly some have felt as much as I speak of, and have in 
pregnant terms complained of it. " I am so fast in prison," 
saith David, " that I cannot get out." And, " Bring my 
soul out of prison and I will praise Thee." And, " I will run 
the way of Thy commandments, when Thou shaft set my heart 
at liberty." 

Peradventure all feel not this presently as soon as they have 
sinned, nor it may be a good while after. So God told Cain 
at the beginning : his " sin should be at the door," that is, 
while he kept within he should not be troubled with it perhaps, 
but at his coming forth it should certainly attach him. But, 
saith Moses, let every one that sinneth be sure that " his sin " 
at last " will find him out " ; for he shall no sooner be under 
arrest of any trouble, sickness, cross or calamity but he shall 
be shut into his a-revoxoipLa and feel it presently. As the 
brethren of Joseph. 

Yea, though many, even then when they feel this strait- 
ness in their soul, make means to put it away for the time, 
and seem merry and light enough, so many times prisoners 
be in the gaol till the very day of the assizes come ; yet when 
it is come to that, that judex est prce foribus, when the terror 
of death cometh, and with it " a fearful expectation of judg- 
ment," then certainly, then without all doubt, the " anguish " 
St. Paul speaketh of shall be " upon every soul of every one 
that doeth evil ? " Then, there is no man never so wicked 


that with his good will would " die " in his " sins," but would 
have them released while he is yet in vid, yet " in the way." 
Then we seek help at such scriptures as this, and call for the 
persons to whom this commission belongeth. And those whom 
we have gone by seven years together and never said word 
to about it, them we are content to speak with, when the counsel 
and direction they give we are scarce able to receive, and much 
less to put in practice. As if all our lifetime we beheved 
the permission of sins, as if that were the article of our faith 
all our life long, and the article of remission of sins never till 
the point of death. 

But now they that have either felt or believed that such an 
imprisonment there is, will be glad to hear that there is a 
power whereby they may be enlarged. For which very point, 
even that there is a Remittuntur, what thanks are we eternally 
bound to render unto God ! For I tell you, nusquam Angelas 
apprehendit, " the Angels never found the like," For " the 
Angels which kept not their first estate hath He reserved 
in everlasting chains of darkness to the judgment of the great 
day." Their chains everlasting, their imprisonment per- 
petual ; no commission to be sued for them, no Remittuntur 
eis. But with man it is not so. To him dehverance, to him 
loosing of the chains, to him opening of the prison is promised. 
For his sins a commission is granted out, his sins have a 
Remittuntur. This is a high and special privilege of our 
nature, to be had by us in an everlasting thankful remembrance. 
So that no man needeth now abruptly to say with those in 
Jeremiah, Desperavimus, " we are desperate now," we never 
shall be forgiven, let us now do what we list. No, but as it 
is said of Ezra, " Though we have grievously sinned, yet there 
is hope for all that " ; and, as in Ezekiel, that we may so use 
the matter that peccata nostra non erunt nobis in scandalum, 
" our sins shall not be our destruction." Which very point 
is both an especial stay of our hope, and a principal means of 
manifesting unto us the great goodness of God. 

So that thus the case stands : Remittuntur, which is God's 
power, is the primitive or original ; Remiseritis, which is the 
Apostles' power, is merely derived. That in God sovereign, 
this in the Apostles dependent. In Him only absolute, in 
them delegate. In Him imperial, in them ministerial. 

The power of remitting sin is originally in God, and in God 


alone. And in Christ our Saviour, by means of the union 
of the Godhead and manhood into one Person ; by virtue 
whereof " the Son of Man hath power to forgive sins upon 

This power being thus solely invested in God he might 
without wrong to any have retained and kept to Himself, 
and without means of word or Sacrament, and without 
ministers, either Apostles or others, have exercised immediately 
by Himself from heaven. 

But we should then have said of the remission of sins, saith 
St. Paul : " Who shall go up to Heaven for it, and fetch it 
thence ? " For which cause, saith He, " the righteousness 
of faith speaketh thus. Say not so in thy heart. The word 
shall be near thee ; in thy mouth, and in thy heart, and this 
is the word of faith which we preach." 

Partly this, that there should be no such difficulty to shake 
our faith, as once to imagine to fetch Christ from Heaven 
for the remission of our sins. 

Partly also, because Christ, to whom alone this commission 
was originally granted, having ordained Himself a body 
would work by bodily things ; and having taken the nature 
of man upon Him would honour the nature He had so taken. 
For these causes, that which was His and His alone He 
vouchsafed to impart, and out of His commission to grant 
a commission, and thereby to associate them to Himself — it is 
His own word by the Prophet — and to make them avvepyovi, 
that is, co-operators, " workers together with Him," as the 
Apostle speaketh, to the work of salvation both of themselves 
and of others. 

From God then it is derived ; from God, and to men. 

To men, and not to Angels. And this I take to be a second 
prerogative of our nature. That an angel must give order to 
Cornelius to send to Joppa for one Simon, to speak words to 
him by which he and his household should be saved, but the 
Angel must not be the doer of it. That not to Angels, but to 
men, is committed this office or embassage of reconciliation. 
And that which is yet more, to sinful men, for so is the truth, 
and so themselves confess it. St. Peter : Go from me, Lord, 
for I am a sinful man." St. James : "In many things we 
offend all " ; putting himself in the number. And, lest we 
should think it to be but their modesty, St. John speaketh 


plainly : " If we say we have no sin " — what tiien ? not, we 
are proud, and there is no humility in us, but, " we are liars, 
and there is no truth in us." And this is that which is wonderful 
in this point, that St. Paul, who confesseth himself " a sinner " 
and " a chief sinner," quorum primus ego, the same concerning 
another sinner, the incestuous Corinthian, " I forgive it him," 
saith he, iv TrpoadoTrw rov Xpto-rov, "in the person of Christ." 

Now if we ask to what men ? the text is plain. They to 
whom Christ said this Remiseritis were the Apostles. 

In the Apostles, that we may come nearer yet, we find three 
capacities, as we may term them : (1) As Christians in general ; 
(2) as preachers, priests, or ministers more special ; (3) as 
those twelve persons whom in strict propriety of speech we 
term the Apostles. 

Some things that Christ spake to them He spake to them as 
representing the whole company of Christians, as His Vigilate. 

Some things to them, not as Christians, but as preachers 
or priests ; as His Ite prcedicate Evangelium, and His Hoc facite, 
which no man thinketh all Christians may do. 

And some things to themselves personally ; as that He had 
appointed them " witnesses " of His miracles and resurrection, 
which cannot be applied but to them, and them in person. 
It remaineth, we enquire, in which of these three capacities 
Christ imparteth to them this commission. 

Not as to Apostles properly. That is, there was no personal 
privilege to be in them and to die with them, that they should 
execute it for a time, and none ever after them. God forbid 
we should so think it. For this power being more than needful 
for the world, as in the beginning it was said, it was not to be 
either personal or for a time. Then those persons dying, 
and those times determining, they in the ages following, as we 
now in this, that should light into this prison or captivity of 
sin, how could they or we receive any benefit by it ? Of 
nature it is said by the heathen philosopher, that it doth 
neither abundare in superftuis nor deficere in necessariis. 
God forbid but we should ascribe as much to God at the least, 
that neither He would ordain a power superfluous or more than 
needed, or else it being needful would appropriate it unto one 
age, and leave all other destitute of it ; and not rather, as all 
writers both new and old take it, continue it successively 
to the world's end. 


And as not proper to the Apostles' persons, so neither 
common to all Christians in general, nor in the persons of aU 
Christians conveyed to them. Which thing the very circum- 
stances of the text do evict. For He sent them first, and after 
inspired them, and after both these gave them this commission. 
Now all Christians are not so sent, nor are all Christians inspired 
with the grace or gift of the Spirit, that they were here. Conse- 
quently, it was not intended to the whole society of Christians. 
Yea, I add, forasmuch as these two, both these two, must 
go before it, (1) Missio and (2) Inspiratio, that though 
God inspire some laymen, if I may have so to term them, 
with very special graces of knowledge to this end, yet, inas- 
much as they have not the former of sending, it agreeth not to 
them, neither may they exercise it until they be sent, that is, 
until they have their calling thereunto. 

It being then neither personal nor peculiar to them as 
Apostles, nor again common to all as Christians, it must needs 
be committed to them as ministers, priests, or preachers, and 
consequently to those that in that office and function do succeed 
them, to whom and by whom this commission is still continued. 
Neither are they that are ordained or instituted to that calHng 
ordained or instituted by any other words or verse than this. 
Yet not so that absolutely without them God cannot bestow 
it on whom or when He pleaseth, or that He is bound to this 
means only, and cannot work without it. For gratia Dei non 
alligatur mediis, " the grace of God is not bound but free," 
and can work without means either of word or sacrament ; 
and as without means, so without ministers, how and when to 
Him seemeth good. But speaking of that which is proper 
and ordinary in the course by Him estabhshed, this is an eccle- 
siastical act committed, as the residue of the ministry of 
reconciliation, to ecclesiastical persons. And if at any time 
He vouchsafe it by others that are not such, they be in that 
case ministri necessitatis non officii, " in case of necessity 
ministers, but by office not so." 

Now as by committing this power God does not deprive or 
bereave Himself of it, for there is a Remittuntur still, and that 
chief, sovereign and absolute : so on the other side, where 
God proceedeth by the Church's act, as ordinarily He doth, 
it being His own ordinance, there whosoever will be partaker 
of the Church's act must be partaker of it by the Apostles' 


means. And to exclude them is, after a sort, to wring the keys 
out of their hands to whom Christ hath given them, is to 
cancel and make void this clause of Remiseritis. 

Neither is this a new or strange thing ; from the beginning 
it was so. Under the law of nature, saith Elihu in Job speaking 
of one for his sins in God's prison, " If there be with him an 
ambassador, commissioner or interpreter " — not any who- 
soever, but — " one among a thousand to show unto him his 
righteousness, then shall God have mercy upon him and say, 
Let him go, for I have received a propitiation." 

Under Moses, it is certain the " covenant of life and peace " 
was made with Levi, and at the sacrifices for sin he was ever 
a party. 

Under the prophets, it pleased God to use this concurrence 
towards David himself, Nathan the Prophet saying unto him, 
Transtulit Dominus peccatum tuum. 

Which course so established by God till Christ should come 
— for neither covenant nor priesthood was to endure any 
longer — was by Christ re-established anew in the Church, in 
that calling to whom He hath " committed the word of recon- 
cihation." It is St. Augustine that thus speaketh of this 
ecclesiastical act in his time : Nemo sihi dicat, Occulte ago 
pcenitentiam, apud Deum ago. Novit Deus, qui mitis ignoscit, 
quiaincorde ago. Ergo sine causa dictum est, Quae solveritis in 
terra, soluta erunt in ccbIo ? ergo sine causd claves datce sunt 
EcclesicB Dei ? Frustramus evangelium Dei, frustramus verba 
Christi ? 

The remission of sins, as it is from God only, so it is by the 
death and bloodshedding of Christ alone ; but for the applying 
of this unto us there are diverse means established. There is 
multiformis gratia, saith St. Peter, " variety of graces " 
whereof we are made the " disposers." Now all and every of 
these means working to the remission of sins, which is the 
first and greatest benefit our Saviour Christ hath obtained for 
us, it resteth that we further enquire what that means is in 
particular that is here imported. 

For sure it is, that besides this there are divers acts instituted 
by God and executed by us, which all tend to the remission of 

(1) In the institution of Baptism there is a power to that 
end. " Be baptized every one of you for the remission of sins. 


saith St. Peter to three thousand at once. " Arise and be 
baptized," saith Ananias to Paul, " And wash away thy sins." 
And to be short, I beHeve one baptism for the remission of sins, 
saith the Nicene Creed. 

(2) Again, there is also another power for the remission of 
sins in the institution of the holy Eucharist. The words are 
exceeding plain : " This is My blood of the New Testament 
for the remission of sins." 

(3) Besides, in the Word itself there is a hke power ordained. 
" Now are you clean," saith Christ, no doubt from their sins, 
" propter sermonem hunc." And the very name giveth as much, 
that is entitled " the word of reconciliation." 

(4) Further, there is to the same effect a power of Prayer, 
and that in the priest's prayer. " Call for the priests," saith the 
Apostle, " and let them pray for the sick person, and if he have 
committed sin it shall be forgiven him." 

All and every of these are acts for the remission of sins ; 
and in all and every of these is the person of the minister 
required, and they cannot be despatched without him. 

But the ceremonies and circumstances that here I find used 
prevail with me to think that there is somewhat here imparted 
to them that was not before. For it carrieth no likelihood 
that our Saviour, bestowing on them nothing here but that 
which before He had, would use so much solemnity, so diverse 
and new circumstances, no new or diverse grace being here 

(1) Now for Baptism, it appeareth plainly that the Apostles 
baptized in a manner from the beginning, which I make no 
question they did not without a commission. 

(2) And for the power of administering the holy Sacrament, 
it was granted expressly to them by Hoc facite before His 

(3) The like may we say of the power of preaching, which was 
given them long before. Even when He sent them, and com- 
manded them to preach the Kingdom of God, which was done 
before this power was promised which here is bestowed ; as 
will evidently appear, the one being given {Mat. x, 7) the other 
after promised [Mat. xvi, 19). 

(4) Neither can it be meant of prayer. There is no partition 
in prayer. " Prayers and suppHcations are to be made for all 
men." But here is a plain partition. There is a quorum 


whose sins are remitted, and another quorum whose sins are 

Seeing then this new ceremony and solemn manner of pro- 
ceeding in this are able to persuade any that it was some new 
power that here Avas conferred, and not those which before had 
been (though there be that apply this, others to some one, 
and others to all of them), I take it to be a power distinct from 
the former, and, not to hold you long, to be the accomplish- 
ment of the promise made of the power of " the keys," which 
here in this place and in these words is fulfilled, and have 
therein for me the joint consent of the Fathers. Which, being 
a different power in itself, is that which we all call the act or 
benefit of Absolution, in which, as in the rest, there is in the 
due time and place of it a use for the remission of sins. Where- 
unto our Saviour Christ, by His sending them, doth institute 
them and give them the key of authority ; and by breathing 
on them and inspiring them doth enable them, and give them 
the key of knowledge to do it well ; and, having bestowed both 
these upon them as the stewards of His house, doth last of all 
deliver them their commission to do it, having so enabled them 
and authorized them as before. So much for the power. 

There is a special use of " the key of knowledge," to direct 
to whom, and to whom not ; since it is not but with advice 
to be applied, nor " hands hastily to be laid on any man," 
as the Apostle testifieth ; which place is referred by the ancient 
writers to the act of absolution, and the circumstance of the 
place giveth no less. But discretion is to be used in applying 
of comfort, counsel, and the benefit of absolution. Whereby it 
falleth out sometimes, that the very same sins to some may be 
remitted, being of the quorum, that to some others may not, 
that are out of it. 

To see then a little into this qualification, that thereby we 
may discern who be of either quorum. The conditions to be 
required, to be of quorum remittuntur, are two : — 

First, that the party be within the house and family whereto 
those keys belong, that is, be a member of the Church, be a 
faithful believing Christian. In the law, the Propitiatory was 
annexed to the Ark and could not be severed from it ; to 
shew that they must hold of the Ark and could not be severed 
from it ; to shew that they must hold of the Ark, that is, be 
of the number of the people of God, or else they could not be 


partakers of the propitiation for their sins. So saith the 
Psalmist in the psalm of the Church : Omnes canales mei erunt 
in te. " All the conduit-pipes of all my spiritual graces are 
conveyed into thee," and are no where else to be had. And 
namely, of this benefit of remission of sins : " Thou hast, 
saith he, O Lord, been gracious unto Thy land, etc. ; Thou 
hast forgiven all their iniquity and covered all their sin." 
But the prophet Esay most plainly: "The people which 
dwelleth in her," that is, the Church, " they shall have their 
iniquity forgiven." And to end this point, the Angel, when 
he interpreteth the name of Jesus, extendeth it no further 
than thus, that " He shall save His people from their sins." 
To them then is the benefit of their remission of sins entailed 
and Hmited ; it is sors Sanctorum, and dos EcclesicB. And they 
that are of this quorum have their certain hope thereof. They 
that are out of it pertain to the second sort, of them that have 
their sins retained. The power of the keys reacheth not to 
them : " What have I to do with them that are without ? " 
saith the Apostle; " them that are without God shall judge." 
Therefore all Pagans, Infidels, Jews and Turks are without 
the compass of this quorum. For whoso believeth not in Christ, 
whoso is not a faithful Christian, " shall die in his sins." 

But are all that are within this house thereby partakers of 
this remission ? Is there nothing else required ? Yes, indeed, 
there is yet another condition requisite, whereby many are cut 
off that are within the quorum of the Church. And that is, 
as our Saviour Christ Himself setteth it down, repentance. 
For He willeth " repentance and remission of sins to be preached 
in His name " ; both these, but repentance first, and then 
remission of his sins to follow after. So that the sinner that is 
a member of the Church, if he want this, is not of the former 
but of the latter quorum. 

The other condition which must be joined to the former is 
an unfeigned purpose and endeavour ourselves to remit or let 
go those sins which we would have by God remitted. For it 
is not enough to be sorry for sin past, or to seek repentance, 
no though it be " with tears " ; this will not make us of 
the first quormn if there be nothing but this, if there be in our 
hearts a purpose ourselves to retain and hold fast our old sin 
still. Esau lifted up his voice with a " great cry and bitter 
out of measure, and wept," yet even at the same time vowed 

4— (a433) 


in his heart, so soon as his father was dead, to make away his 
brother. And this purpose of mind, for all his bitter crying 
and tears, cast him into the latter quorum, and made his sins 
to be retained still. And such is the case of them that would 
be let go out of prison, but would have liberty to go in and out 
still to visit the company there, when and as often as them list. 
So do not the Saints that be of the first quorum, to whom God, 
as " He speaketh peace," so He speaketh this too, " that they 
turn not thither again," that they fall not again to their former 

In which point no less than the former there may he use of 
" the key of knowledge " to advise and direct ourselves, no 
less in the cure of sin than in the sorrow for it. They in the 
second of the Acts which were " pricked in their hearts," 
knew of themselves that somewhat they should do, as by their 
question appeareth ; but what it was they should do they 
knew not. Sometimes men have good minds, but know not 
which way to turn them or set themselves about it. Most usual 
it is for men at their wit's ends to doubt, not of the power of 
remitting of sins, but of their own disposition to receive it ; 
and whether they have ordered the matter so that they be 
within the compass of God's effectual calling. 

And here I should now speak somewhat of the applying or 
use of it, but the time hath overtaken me and will not permit 
it. Now only a word of the third part, of the efficacy. 

Wherein God willing more abundantly to show to them that 
should be partakers of it the stableness of His counsel. He hath 
penned it exceeding effectually, and, indeed, strangely to them 
that deeply consider of it, which He hath so done to the end that 
thereby such poor sinners as shall be partakers of it might 
have strong consolation and perfect assurance, not to waver 
in the hope w^hich is set before them. 

Christ hath not thus indited it : Whose sins ye wish or ye 
pray for ; or. Whose sins ye declare to be remitted ; but 
" Whose sins ye remit " ; using no other word in the Apostles' 
than He useth in His own. And to all these in St. Matthew 
He added His solemn protestation of " Verily, verily," or 
" Amen, amen," that so it is, and shall be. And all to certify 
us that He fully meaneth with effect to ratify in heaven that 
is done in earth, to the sure and steadfast comfort of them that 
shall partake of it. 

JOHN DONNE (1573-1631) 

We pass by two strides from the sledge-hammer homehness 
of Tudor Latimer, through the spiritually-minded formalism 
of Andrewes, to what Mr. Gosse styles the " sonorous majesty 
of the organ-sentences " of Dean Donne, whom Coleridge re- 
garded as the greatest preacher of his century. Dry den, looking 
back, styled him " the greatest wit, though not the best poet, 
of our nation." The word " wit " must be understood, of 
course, with the seventeenth century implication. A hundred 
years ago the ingenious and somewhat scholastic intellectualism 
of the Stuart age, the flowering time of English Uterature, was 
pronounced " ludicrous," and in consulting Donne's sermons, 
rich as they are in passages of rhetorical splendour, the reader 
was advised to be " more attentive to the matter than to the 
manner." ^ 

Yet at Whitehall, or when preaching to the lawyers in 
Lincoln's-Inn chapel, or to " the Lords of the Council and other 
honourable persons " at Paul's Cross, Donne had a closely 
critical and capable congregation. Izaak Walton, in his own 
exquisite way, thus describes his first sermon before the Court : — 

" He went usually, accompanied by some one friend, to 
preach privately in Villages neere London : his first Sermon 
being preached at Paddington. This he did, till his Majestie 
sent and appointed him a day to preach to him at Whitehall, 
and, though much was expected of him, both by His Majestie 
and others, yet he was so happy (which few are) as to satisfie 
and exceed their expectations — preaching the Word so, as 
shewed his own heart was possest with those very thoughts 
and joyes that he laboured to distill into others : A Preacher 
in earnest : weeping sometimes for his Auditory, sometimes 
with them : always preaching to himselfe, like an Angel from 
a cloud, though in none ; carrying some, as S. Paul was, to 

1 Chalmer's Biographical Dictionary , vol xii. 



Heaven in holy raptures, and inticing others by a sacred Art 
and Courtship to amend their Uves ; and all this with a most 
particular grace and an unexpressible addition of comeliness." 

Eighty of Deane Donne's 130 Sermons were published nine 
years after his death, with Walton's Memoir prefixed, but they 
had been carefully revised by him. Mr. Gosse points out that 
these sermons, as printed, " are not an exact transcript, or 
even report, of what Donne said in the pulpit. He was essen- 
tially an extempore preacher — a fact which must increase 
our admiration of the elaboration of thought, richness of 
illustration, and copious repertory of learning, which dazzled 
and delighted his hearers." ^ Speaking of his first public 
sermon, which was preached at Paul's Cross on March 24, 1617, 
Mr. Gosse observes that to deliver it in an ordinary tone of 
voice will occupy not less than two hours and forty minutes." 
It cannot really have been preached in full. One hour was the 
regulation length of a sermon, as we learn from (among other 
sources) Donne's own protest against the new practice of 
congregational " humming " — common enough, however, when 
St. Chrysostom preached at Constantinople or St. Augustine 
at Hippo — those " periodical murmurings and noises," those 
" impertinent interjections," which " swallow up one quarter 
of the preacher's hour." 

A sermon read from manuscript, as Dr. Jessopp remarks, 
was scarcely tolerated in that age. A successful preacher 
had to be a " painful " one, who had undergone a severe and 
systematic training in pulpit oratory, and could commit a 
long and orderly exposition, mixed with passages of solid 
eloquence, to memory. " I heard the old King say of a good 
sermon," wrote Donne in 1627, " that he thought the preacher 
never had thought of his sermon till he spoke it ; it seemed to 
him neghgently and extemporally spoken. And I knew that 
he had weighed every syllable for half a year before." Donne 
rose at four every morning, and studied till ten. He mentions 
^ Life and Letters of John Donne, ii, 313. 

JOHN DONNE (1573-1631) 53 

that the cop3ang of one of his great festival sermons took him 
eight hours. He rested all Saturday, ate nothing before preach- 
ing, even when in the afternoon, nor afterwards till he reached 
home. The rising puritanism, however, disparaged academic 
learning and human elaboration. Harington records a saying 
of Elizabeth's, " when she had on the Friday heard one of 
these talking preachers commended to her by somebody, and 
the Sunday after heard a well-laboured sermon which some 
disgraced as a bosom-sermon that smelt of the candle, ' I 
pray,' said she, ' let me have your bosom-sermons rather than 
your hp-sermons ; for where the preacher takes pains the 
auditor takes profit.' " Donne himself was no believer in the 
inspiration of the moment. He observes : — 

" When the Apostle says Study to he quiet, methinks he 
intimates that the less we study for our sermons the more 
danger there is to disquiet the auditory. Extemporal, unpre- 
meditated sermons, that serve the popular ear, vent for the 
most part doctrines that disquiet the Church. Study for them, 
and they will be quiet. Consider ancient fundamental doctrine, 
and this will quiet and settle the understanding and the 

Donne was no mere pulpit styhst. Behind his preaching 
were the sins and sorrows of his own life, the abiding memory 
of a Divine deliverance and a miraculous dispensation of grace. 
He was hardly as Walton styles him, " a second St. Austine," 
but he was truly a penitent, eager for the conversion of souls 
to their Saviour. " It hath been my desire," he wrote towards 
the end, " and God may be pleased to grant it me, that I might 
die in the pulpit. If not that, that I might take my death 
in the pulpit, that is, die the sooner by reason of my former 
labours." His last sermon, preached on a Lenten Friday, 
certainly hastened his end, and his friends had dissuaded him 
from it, " but he passionately denyed their requests." " When 
(to the amazement of some beholders) he appeared in the 
pulpit, many of them thought he presented himself e, not to 


preach mortification by a living voice, but mortality by a 
decayed body and a dying face. ^ And doubtlesse many did 
secretly ask that question in Ezekiel, Doe these hones live ! or, 
can that soule organize that tongue to speak so long as the sand 
in that glasse will move towards its center, and measure out 
an houre of this dyeing man's unspent life. . . Many that 
then saw his teares, and heard his faint and hollow voice, 
professed they thought the text prophetically chosen, and that 
D. Donne had preacht his owne Funerall Sermon." 

The text was, " To God the Lord belong the issues from 
death." The sermon selected for the present volume is the 
striking one " preached to the Earl of Carlile and his company 
at Sion." In 1618, by the King's command, Donne had 
attended John Hay, now Earl of Doncaster, on an embassy 
to the Palsgrave, James's son-in-law, lately crowned King of 
Bohemia, and to the Princes of the Union. The deanery of 
St. Paul's was conferred on Donne in 1620. Hay was created 
Earl of Carlisle Sept. 13, 1622, so that the sermon is subsequent 
to that date. Syon House, in the manor of Isleworth, origin- 
ally a Brigittine nunnery of Henry V's foundation, had been 
granted in 1604 to Henry, ninth Earl of Northumberland, whose 
daughter, the Lady Lucy Percy, Hay wedded, secundis nuptiis, 
in 1617. Northumberland was a prisoner in the Tower from 
1606 to 1621, under a charge of comphcity in the Powder Plot. 

The sermon is best known by the heart-shaking passage 
towards the close about the fearfulness of falling out of the 
hands of the living God. I have given it in the spelling of 
the edition of 1640. 

Falling out of the Hands of God 

He that believeth not shall he damned. — St. Mark xvi, 16 

The first words that are recorded in the Scriptures to have 
been spoken by our Saviour are those which he spoke to 

1 Donne's shrouded and cadaverous upright effigy, designed for him before 
his death, stands in the south choir aisle of St. Paul's, a relic spared by the 
Great Fire. 


his father and mother, then when they had lost him at 
Jerusalem, How is it that you sought me ? knew yee not that I 
must be about my Father's businesse? And the last words 
which are in this Evangelist recorded to have been spoken by 
him to his Apostles are then also, when they were to lose 
tiim in Jerusalem, when he was to depart out of their presence, 
and set himself e in the heavenly Jerusalem, at the right hand 
of his Father : of which last words of his this Text is a part. 
In his first words, those to his father and mother, he doth 
not rebuke their care in seeking him, nor their tendernesse 
in seeking him (as they told him they did) with heavy hearts : 
But he lets them know, that, if not the bond of nature, nor 
the reverentiall respect due to parents, then no respect in the 
world should hold him from a diligent proceeding in that 
worke which he came for, the advancing the Kingdome 
of God in the salvation of mankinde. In his last words 
to his Apostles, he doth not discomfort them by his absence, 
for he sayes, I am with you alwayes, even unto the end of the 
worlde : But he incourageth them to a chearfull undertaking 
of their great worke, the preaching of the Gospel to all Nations, 
by many arguments, many inducements, of which one of the 
waightiest is. That their preaching of the Gospel was not like 
to be uneffectuall, because he had given them the sharpest 
spur, and the strongest bridle upon mankinde ; prcemium et 
pcenam, authority to reward the obedient, and authority to 
punish the rebellious and refractary man. He put into their 
hands the double Key of Heaven, and of Hell ; power to convey 
to the beleever Salvation, and upon him that beleeved not to 
inflict eternall condemnation ; He that beleeveth not, shall be 

That then which man was to beleeve, upon paine of damna- 
tion if he did not, being this Commission which Christ gave to 
his Apostles, we shall make it our first part of this exercise 
to consider the Commission it selfe, the subject of every man's 
necessary beliefe ; And our second part shall be, the penalty, 
the inevitable, the irreparable, the intolerable, the inexpres- 
sible penalty, everlasting condemnation. And as farre as the 
narrownesse of the time, and the naiTownesse of your patience, 
and the narrownesse of my comprehension can reach, wee 
shall shew you the horror, the terror of that fearefull inter- 
mination, Damnabitur, He that believeth not shall be damned. 


First then, it is within this Crediderit, that is, it is a matter 
of faith to beUeve, that such a Commission there is, that God 
hath estabhshed meanes of salvation, and propagation of His 
Gospel here. If then this be matter of faith, where is the root 
of this Faith ? from whence springs it ? Is there any such 
thing writ in the heart of man, that God hath proceeded so ? 

The heart of man is hortus, it is a garden, a Paradise, where 
all that is wholesome, and aU that is dehghtfull growes, but it 
is hortus conclusus, a garden which we ourselves have walled 
in. It is fons, a foimtaine, where all knowledge springs, but 
fons signatus, a fountaine that our corruption hath sealed 
up. The heart is a booke, legible enough, and inteUigible in 
it selfe ; but we have so interlined that booke with imper- 
tinent knowledge, and so clasped up that booke, for feare of 
reading our owne history, our owne sins, as that we are the 
greatest strangers and the least conversant with the examina- 
tion of our owne hearts. There is then Myrrhe in this garden, 
but wee cannot smell it ; and therefore. All thy garments smell 
of Myrrhe, saith David, that is, God's garments ; those scrip- 
tures in which God hath appeared and exhibited his wiU, 
they breathe the Balme of the East, the savour of life, more 
discernably unto us. 

In that bundle of Myrrhe, then, where Ues this that must 
necessarily bee believed, this Commission ? In that article 
of the Creed, Credo Ecclesiam Catholicam, I believe the holy 
Catholique Church ; For tiU I come to that graine of Myrrhe, 
to believe the Catholique Church, I have not the savour of life. 
Let me take in the first graine of this bundle of Myrrhe, the 
first Article, Credo in Deum Patrem, I beleeve in God the Father. 
By that I have a being, I am a creature, but so is a contemp- 
tible worme, and so is a venemous spider as weU as I, so is a 
stinking weed, and so is a stinging nettle, as well as I ; so is 
the earth it selfe, that we tread under our feet, and so is the 
ambitious spirit, which would have been as high as God, and 
is lower than the lowest, the devill himself is a creature as weU 
as I. I am but that, by the first Article, but a creature, and 
I were better if I were not that, if I were no creature (considering 
how I have used my creation), if there were no more Myrrhe 
in this bundle then that first graine, no more to be got by 
beleeving but that I were a creature : But take a great deale 
of this Myrrhe together, consider more articles, That Christ 


is conceived, and borne, and crucified, and dead, and buried, 
and risen, and ascended, there is some savour in this. But 
yet, if when we shall come to Judgement I must carry into his 
presence a menstruous conscience and an ugly face, in which 
his Image, by which he should know me, is utterly defaced, 
all this Myrrhe of his Merits and his Mercies is but a savour 
of death unto death unto me, since I, that knew the horror of 
my owne guiltinesse, must know too that, whatsoever he be 
to others, he is a just judge, and therefore a condemning 
judge to me. If I get farther then this in the Creed, to the 
Credo in Spirituni Sanctum, I beleeve in the Holy Ghost. I 
lock my doore to my selfe, and I throw my selfe downe in the 
presence of my God, I devest my selfe of all worldly thoughts, 
and I bend all my powers and faculties upon God, as I think, 
and suddenly I finde myselfe scattered, melted, fallen into 
vaine thoughts, into no thoughts ; I am upon my knees, and 
I talke, and think nothing ; I reprehend my selfe in it, and I 
goe about to mend it, I gather new forces, new purposes to 
try againe, and doe better, and I doe the same thing againe. 
I beleeve in the Holy Ghost, but doe not finde Him, if I seeke 
him onely in private prayer. But in Ecclesia, when I goe 
to meet him in the Church, when I seeke him where he 
hath promised to bee found, when I seeke him in the execution 
of that Commission which is proposed to our faith in this Text, 
in his ordinances, and meanes of salvation in his Church, 
instantly the savour of this Myrrhe is exalted, and multiplied 
to me ; not a dew, but a shower is powred out upon me, and 
presently foUowes Communio Sanctorum, the Communion of 
Saints, the assistance of Militant and Triumphant Church 
in my behalf e. And presently followes Remissio peccatorum, 
the remission of sins, the purifying of my conscience in that 
water which is his blood, Baptisme, and in that wine which 
is his blood, the other Sacrament. And presently followes 
Carnis resurrectio, a resurrection of my body. My body becomes 
no burthen to me ; my body is better now then my soul was 
before ; and even here I have Goschen in my Egypt, incorrup- 
tion in the midst of my dunghiU, spirit in the midst of my 
flesh, heaven upon earth. And presently followes Vita ceterna. 
Life everlasting ; this life of my body shall not last ever, nay 
the life of my soul in heaven is not such as it is at the first. 
For that soule there, even in heaven, shall receive an addition 


and an accesse of Joy and Glory in the resurrection of our 
bodies in the consummation. 

When a winde brings the River to any low part of the banke, 
instantly it overflowes the whole Meadow ; when that winde 
which blowes where he will, the Holy Ghost, leads an humble 
soule to the Article of the Church, to lay hold upon God as 
God hath exhibited himselfe in his Ordinances, instantly 
he is surrounded under the blood of Christ Jesus, and all the 
benefits thereof ; the communion of saints, the remission of sins, 
the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting, are poured 
out upon him. And therefore of this great worke which 
God hath done for man, in applying himselfe to man in the 
Ordinances of his Church, S. Augustine sayes, Obscuriiis 
dixerunt Prophetce de Christo qudm de Ecclesia, the Prophets 
have not spoken so clearly of the person of Christ as they 
have of the Church of Christ ; for though S. Hierom interpret 
aright those words of Adam and Eve, Brunt duo in carnem 
unam, They too shall he one flesh, to be applyable to the union 
which is betweene Christ and his Church (for so S. Paul 
himselfe applies them) that Christ and his Church are all one 
as man and wife are all one, yet the wife is (or at least, it had 
wont to be so) easilier found at home then the husband ; wee 
can come to Christs Church, but we cannot come to him. 
The Church is a Hill, and that is conspicuous naturally ; but 
the Church is such a Hill as may be scene everywhere. S. 
Augustine askes his Auditory in one of his Sermons, doe any 
of you know the Hill Olympus ? and himselfe sayes in their 
behalfe, none of you know it ; no more, sayes he, do those 
that dwell at Olympus know Giddabam vestram, some Hill 
which was about them. Trouble not thy selfe to know the 
formes and fashions of forraine particular Churches ; neither 
of a Church in the lake, nor a Church upon seven hils ; but 
since God hath planted thee in a Church where all things neces- 
sary for salvation are administred to thee, and where no 
erronious doctrine (even in the confession of our Adversaries) 
is affirmed and held, that is the Hill, and that is the Catholique 
Church, and there is this Commission in this text, meanes of 
salvation sincerely executed ; so then, such a commission 
there is, and it is in the Article of the Creed, that is the Ubi. 

We now come in our order, to the third circumstantiall 
branch, the Unde, from whence and when this Commission 


issued. In which we consider that, since we receive a deep 
impression from the words which our friends spake at the time 
of their death, much more would it worke upon us if they could 
come and speake to us after their death. You know what 
Dives said. Si quis ex mortuis, If one from the dead might goe 
to my Brethren, he might bring them to any thing. Now, 
Primitice mortuorum, the Lord of hfe, and yet the first borne of 
the dead, Christ Jesus, retumes againe after his death, to 
estabUsh this Commission upon his Apostles. It hath there- 
fore aU the formalities of a strong and valid Commission. 
Christ gives it ex mero motu, meerely out of his owne good- 
nesse ; He foresaw no merit in us that moved him ; neither 
was he moved by any man's solicitations. For could it ever 
have fallen into a man's heart to have prayed to the Father 
that his Son might take our Nature, and dye, and rise again, 
and settle a course upon earth for our salvation, if this had 
not first risen in the purpose of God himself ? Would 
any man ever have soHcited or prayed him to proceed 
thus ? It was ex mero motu, out of his owne goodnesse, and it 
was ex certa scientia, he was not deceived in his grant, he 
knew what he did, he knew this Commission should be 
executed, in despight of all Heretiques, and Tyrans that 
should oppose it. And as it was out of his owne Will, and 
with his owne knowledge, so it was ex pienitudine potestatis, 
he exceeded not his Power. For Christ made this Commission 
then when (as it is expressed in the other Evangelist) he pro- 
duced that evidence, Data est mihi, All power is given to me 
in Heaven and in earth. Where Christ speakes not of that 
Power which he had by his etemall generation (though even 
that power were given him, for he was Deus de Deo, God of 
God) ; nor he speakes not of that Power which was given him 
as Man, which was great, but all that he had in the first 
minute of his conception, in the first imion of the two Natures, 
Divine and Humane together ; but that Power from which 
he derives this Commission is that which he had purchased 
by his blood, and came to by conquest. Ego vici mundum, 
sayes Christ, I have conquered the world, and comming in by 
conquest, I may establish what forme of Government I will ; 
and my will is, to goveme my Kingdome by this Commission, 
and by these Commissioners, to the Worlds end ; to establish 
these meanes upon earth, for the salvation of the world. 


Christ rests not in His teste meipso, that himselfe was his 
witnesse, as Princes used to doe (and as he might have done 
best of any, because there were alwaies two more that testified 
with Him, the Father and the Holy Ghost) ; He rests not in 
calling some of his Councell and principall Officers to witnesse, 
as Princes have used too ; but in a Parliament of all states, 
Upper and Common house, Spirituall and Temporal! Apostles, 
Disciples and five hundred Brethren, he testifies this Commis- 
sion — a Commission, a Church, an outward meanes of Salva- 
tion here ; such a Commission there is, it is grounded in the 
Creed, and it was given after his Resurrection. 

In which Commission we finde, that it is Omni CreaturcB. 
And that is large enough, without that wilde extent that 
their S. Francis gives it, in the Roman Church, whom they 
magnifie so much for that religious simplicity, as they call it, 
who thought himselfe bound hterally by this Commission 
to preach to all Creatures, and so did, as we see in his brutish 
Homilies, Frater A sine, and Frater Bos, Brother Oxe, and 
Brother Asse, and the rest of his spiritual kindred. But in 
this Commission, Omnis Creatura, every Creature, is every 
man ; and to every man this Commission extends. Man is 
every creature, sayes Origen, because in him, tanquam in 
o-fficina, omnes Creatures conflantur, because all creatures were 
as it were melted in one forge, and poured into one mold, 
when man was made. For, there being all the distinctions 
which are in all creatures, first, a meere being which stones 
and other inanimate creatures have ; and then life and growth, 
which trees and plants have ; and after that, sense and feeling, 
which beasts have ; and lastly, reason and understanding, 
which Angels have ; man hath them all, and so in that respect is 
every creature, sayes Origen. He is so too, sayes Gregory, 
quia omnis creatures differentia in homine, because all the 
qualities and properties of all other creatures, how remote and 
distant, how contrary soever in themselves, yet they all meet 
in man. In man, if he be a flatterer, you shall finde the grovel- 
ing and crawling of a Snake ; and in a man, if he be ambitious, 
you shall finde the high flight and piercing of the Eagle ; in 
a voluptuous, sensual man, you shall finde earthlinesse of the 
Hog ; and in a licentious man, the intemperance and dis- 
temper of the Goate ; ever lustfuU, and ever in a fever ; ever 
in sicknesses contracted by that sin, and yet ever in a desire to 


proceed in that sin ; and so man is every creature in that 
respect, sayes Gregory. But he is especially so, sayes S. 
Augustine, quia omnis creatura propter hominem, All creatmres 
were made for man, man is the end of all. And so we passe from 
the circumstances of the Commission, that it is. And where it 
is. And whence it comes, And whither it goes, to the substance 
it selfe. 

This is expressed in three actions ; first, Ite predicate, Goe 
and preach the Gospel; And then, Baptizate, Baptize in the 
Name of the Father, Sonne, and Holy Ghost; And Docete 
servare. Teach them to observe all those things which I have 
commanded you. First preach the Gospel, that is, plant 
the roote, faith ; then administer the Sacraments, that 
is, water it, cherish it, fasten and settle it with that seale ; 
and then procure good works, that is, produce the blessed 
fruit of this faith and these Sacraments. Qui non crediderit 
hoc, he that does not beleeve all this, shall be damned. 

First then. Qui non crediderit. He that hath this Apostleship, 
this ministry of reconciliation, he that is a Commissioner for 
these new buildings, to erect the kingdome of God by the 
Gospel, and does not beleeve, and shew by his practise that he 
does beleeve, himselfe to be bound to preach, he is under the 
penalty of this Text. When, therefore, the Jesuit Maldonat 
pleases himselfe so well, that, as he sayes, he cannot chuse 
but laugh when the Calvinists satisfie themselves in doing 
that duty, that they doe preache ; for, sayes he, Docetis, sed 
nemo misit. You doe preach, but you have no caUing ; if it 
were not too serious a thing to laugh at, would he not allow 
us to be as merry, and say too, Missi estis, sed non docetis, 
Perchance you may have a calling, but I am sure you do not 
preach ? For if we consider their practise, their secular Clergy, 
those which have the care of soules in Parishes, they doe not 
preache ; and if we consider their Lawes and Canons, their 
Regular Clergy, their Monks and Fryers should not preach 
abroad, out of their own Cloysters. And preaching was so far 
out of use amongst them as that in these later ages, under 
Innocentius the third, they instituted Ordinem prcBdicantium, 
an order of Preachers ; as though there had been no order 
for preaching in the Church of God till within these foure 
hundred yeares. 

I cannot remember that in any History, for matter of fact. 


nor in the framing or institution of any State, for matter of 
law, there hath ever been such a law, or such a practise, 
as that of Preaching. Every where amongst the Gentils, 
(particularly amongst the Romans, where there was a publique 
Office to be Conditor Precum, according to emergent occasions, 
to make Collects and Prayers for the publique use) we finde 
some resemblance, some representation of our common Prayer, 
our Liturgie ; and in their ablutions and expiations we finde 
some resemblance of our Sacraments ; but no where any re- 
semblance of our Preaching. Certaine anniversary Panegy- 
riques they had in Rome, which were Coronation Sermons, or 
Adoption Sermons, or Triumph Sermons, but all those, upon 
the matter, were but civill Commemorations. But this Institu- 
tion of keeping the people in a continuall knowledge of 
their religious duty, by continuall preaching, was onely an 
ordinance of God himself e for God's own people. 

What was this former wisdome of God, that could not save 
man ? It was twofold. First, God in his wisdome manifests 
a way to man, to know the Creator by the creature. That the 
invisible things of him might he seen by the visible. And this 
gracious and wise purpose of God took not effect, because man, 
being brought to the contemplation of the creature, rested 
and dwelt upon the beauty and dignity of that, and did not 
passe by the creature to the Creator. And then Gods wise- 
dome was further expressed in a second way, when God 
manifested himselfe to Man by his Word, in the Law and in 
the Prophets. And then, man resting in the letter of the law, 
and going no farther, and resting in the outside of the Prophets, 
and going no farther, not discerning the Sacrifices of the Law 
to be types of the death of Christ Jesus, nor the purpose of the 
Prophets to be, to direct us upon that Messias, that Redeemer, 
Ipsa, qucB fer Prophetas locuta est, sapientia, sayes Clement, 
the wisdome of God in the mouth of the Prophets could not 
save man. And then, when the wisdome of Nature, and the 
wisdome of the Law, the wisdome of the Philosophers, and the 
wisdome of the Scribes, became defective and insufficient, 
by man's perversenesse, God repayred and supplyed it by a 
new way, but in a strange way, by the foolishnesse of preaching. 
For it is not onely to the subject, to the matter, to the doctrine, 
which they were to preach, that this foolishnesse is referred. 
To preach glory by adhering to an inglorious person, lately 


executed for sedition and blasphemy ; to preach salvation from 
a person whom they saw unable to save himselfe from the 
Gallowes ; to preach joy from a person whose soule was heavy 
unto death, this was scandalum ludceis ; but Grcscis stultitia, 
sayes the Apostle there, the Gentils thought this doctrine 
meere foolishnesse. But not onely the matter, but the manner, 
not onely the Gospel, but even preaching was a fooHshnesse 
in the eyes of man. For if such persons as the Apostles were, 
heires to no reputation in the State by being derived from 
great families, bred in no Universities, nor sought to for 
learning, persons not of the civilest education, sea-men, fisher- 
men, not of the honestest professions [Matthew but a Pubhcan) 
if such persons should come into our streets and porches, and 
preache (I doe not say, such doctrine as theirs seemed then), 
but if they should preach at all, should not we thinke this a 
meere foohshnesse ? Did they not mock the Apostles, and say 
they were drunke, as early as it was in the morning ? Did 
not those two sects of Philosophers who were as farre distant 
in opinions as any two could be, the Stoiques and the Epi- 
cureans, concurre in defaming S. Paul for preachinge when they 
called him Seminiv erbium, a babbling and prating fellow ? 
But the foohshnesse of God is wiser then men, said the Apostle ; 
and out of that wisdome God hath shut us all under the 
penalty of this Text, if we that are preachers, and you that 
are hearers, do not beleeve that this preaching is the 
ordinance of God, for the salvation of soules. 

This then is matter of faith, that preaching is the way, and 
this is matter of faith too, that that which is preached must 
be matter of faith ; for the Commission is Prcedicate euangelium 
Preach, but preach the Gospel. And that is, first, Euangelium 
solum, Preach the Gospel only, adde nothing to the Gospel ; and 
then Euangelium totum. Preach the Gospel intirely, defalke 
nothing, forbeare nothing of that. First, then, we are to 
preach, you are to heare, nothing but the Gospel. And we 
may neither postdate our Commission, nor interline it ; 
nothing is Gospel now which was not Gospel then, when 
Christ gave his Apostles their Commission. So also if ye 
hearken to them who tell you that, though the blood of 
Christ be sufficient in value for you, and for all, yet you have 
no meanes to be sure that he meant his blood to you, but you 
must passe in this world, and passe out of this world, in doubt, 



and that it is well if you come to Purgatory, and be sure there 
of getting to heaven at last ; these men preach not the Gospel, 
because the Gospel is the history, and the use ; and this is not 
the true use. 

And thus it is, if wee take the Gospell from the Schoole ; 
but if we take it from the Schoolemaster, from Christ himselfe, 
the Gospell is repentance, and remission of sinnes. For he 
came, that repentance and remission of sinnes should he preached 
in his Name. If then they will tell you, that you need no such 
repentance for a sinne as amounts to a contrition, to a sorrow 
for having offended God, to a detestation of the sinne, to a 
resolution to commit it no more, but that it is enough to have 
an attrition (as they will needs call it) a servill feare, and sorrow 
that you have incurred the torments of hell ; or if they will 
tell you, that, when you have had this attrition, that the 
clouds of sadnesse and of dejection of spirit have met, and beat 
in your conscience, and that the allision of those clouds have 
brought forth a thunder, a fearefull apprehension of God's 
Judgements upon you ; and when you have had your con- 
trition too, that you have purged your soule in an humble 
confession, and have let your soule blood in a true and sharpe 
remorse, and compunction, for alle sinnes past, and put that 
bleeding soule into a bath of repentant teares, and into a bath 
of blood, the blood of Christ Jesus in the Sacrament, and feele 
it faint and languish there, you^ receive no assurance of remis- 
sion of sinnes, so as that it can levy no fine that can conclude 
God, but still are afraid that God will still incumber you with 
yesterdayes sinnes againe to morrow ; if this be their way, 
they doe not preach the Gospell, because they doe not preach 
all the Gospell ; for the Gospell is repentance and remission 
of sinnes ; that is, the necessity of repentance, and then the 
assurednesse of remission, goe together. 

The scale is the administration of the Sacraments, as we said 
at first, of both Sacraments. Of the Sacrament of Baptisme 
there can be no question, for that is literally and directly 
within the Commission, Goe and Baptize, and then Qui non 
crediderit. Salvation may bee had in divers cases by faith 
without Baptisme, but in no case by Baptisme without faith ; 
For as that is true, in adultis, in persons which are come to 
yeares of discretion, which S. Hierome sayes, fieri non potest, 

^ I suggest this emendation. The text has " and " for " you." 


it is impossible to receive the Sacrament of Baptisme except 
the soul have received Sacramentum fidei, the Sacrament of 
faith, that is the Word preached, except he have been instructed 
and chatechized before, so there is a necessity of Baptisme 
after, for any other ordinary meanes of salvation, that God 
hath manifested to his Church. And therefore quos Deus 
conjunxit, those things which God hath joyned in this Com- 
mission, let no man separate ; Except a man hee home of water 
and the Spirit, he cannot enter into the Kingdome of heaven. 
Let no man reade that place disjunctively, of Water or the 
Spirit, for there must bee both ; S. Peter himself e knew not, 
how to separate them. Repent and hee baptized every one of you, 
saith he ; for, for any one that might have beene, and was not, 
baptized, S. Peter had not that seale to plead for his salvation. 

The Sacrament of Baptisme, then, is within this Crediderit, 
it must necessarily be beleeved to be necessary for salvation. 
But is the other Sacrament of the Lord's Supper so too ? Is 
that within this Commission ? Certainly it is, or at least 
within the equity, if not within the letter, pregnantly implyed, 
if not hterally expressed. For thus it stands, they are com- 
manded to teach all things that Christ had commanded them ; 
and then S. Paul sayes, / have received of the Lord that which 
also I delivered unto you, that the Lord lesus tooke bread, etc. 
(and so hee proceeds with the Institution of the Sacrament) 
and then he adds that Christ said. Doe this in remembrance of 

In the Primitive Church there was an erronious opinion 
of such an absolute necessity in taking this Sacrament as that 
they gave it to persons when they were dead ; a custome 
which was growne so common as that it needed a Canon of a 
Councell to restraine it. But the giving of this Sacrament 
to children newly baptized was so generall, even in pure times, 
as that we see so great men as Cyprian and Augustine scarce 
lesse than vehement for the use of it. And some learned men 
in the Reformed Church have not so far declined it but that 
they call it Catholicam consuetudinem, a Catholique, an uni- 
versall, custome of the Churche. But there is a farre greater 
strength both of naturall and spirituall faculties required for 
the receiving of this Sacrament of the Lord's Supper then 
the other of Baptisme. But for those who have those faculties 
that they are now, or now should be, able to disceme the Lords 

5— (2433) 


body, and their owne soules, besides that inestimable and 
inexpressible comfort which a worthy receiver receives as 
often as he receives that seale of his reconciliation to God, 
it is a service to God and to his Church to come frequently 
to this Communion. For truly (not to shake or afright any 
tender conscience) I scarce see how any man can satisfie him- 
selfe that he hath said the Lords Prayer with a good con- 
science, if at the same time he were not in such a disposition 
as that he might have received the Sacrament too ; for, if he 
be in charity, he might receive, and if he be not, he mocked 
Almighty God, and deluded the Congregation, in saying the 
Lords Prayer. 

The best arguments we can prove our Sermons by is our 
owne life. The whole weekes conversation is a good para- 
phrase upon the Sundayes Sermon. It is too soone to aske 
when the clocke stroke eleven. Is it a good preacher ? for I 
have but halfe his Sermon then, his owne life is the other halfe ; 
and it is time enough to aske the Saterday after, whether the 
Sundayes Preacher preach well or no ; for he preaches poorely 
that makes an end of his sermon upon Sunday. He preaches 
on all the weeke, if he live well, to the edifying of others. If 
we say well, and doe ill, we are so far from the example of Gods 
children, which built with one hand, and fought with the other, 
as that, if we doe build with one hand, in our preaching, we 
pull down with the other in our example, and not only our 
own, but other mens buildings too ; for the ill life of particular 
men reflects upon the function and ministery in generall. 

And as it is with us, if we divorce our words and our workes, 
so it is with you, if you doe divorce your faith and your workes. 
God hath given his Commission under seale. Preach and Bap- 
tize ; God lookes for a returne of this Commission under 
seale too ; Believe, and bring forth fruits worthy of belief e. The 
way that lacob saw to Heaven, was a ladder ; It was not 
a faire and an easie stair case, that a man might walke up 
without any holding. But manibus innitendum, sayes S. 
Augustine ; in the way to salvation there is use of hands, of 
actions, of good works, of a holy life. Servate omnia, doe then 
all that is commanded, all that is within the Commission. 
If that seeme impossible, doe what you can, and you have done 
all ; for then is all this done cum quod non fit ignoscitur, 
when God forgives that which is left undone. But God 


forgives none of that which is left undone out of a wilfull and 
vincible ignorance. And therefore search thy conscience. And 
then Christs commandement enters, Scrutamini Scripturas, 
then search the Scriptures ; for till then, as long as thy 
conscience is foule, it is but an allusion to apprehend any peace 
or any comfort in any sentence of the Scripture, in any promise 
of the Gospell : search thy conscience, empty that, and then 
search the Scriptures, and thou shalt finde abundantly enough 
to fill it with peace and consolation ; for this is the summe of 
all the Scriptures, Qui non crediderit hoc, He that believes not 
this, that he must be saved by hearing the word preached, 
by receiving the Sacraments, and by working according to 
both, is within the penalty of this text, Damnabitur, He shall 
be damned. 

But what this damnation is, neither the tongue of good Angels 
that know damnation by the contrary, by fruition of salvation, 
nor the tongue of bad Angels who know damnation by a lament- 
able experience, is able to express it. A man may saile so at 
sea as that he shall have laid the North Pole flat, that shall be 
fallen out of sight, and yet he shall not have raised the South 
Pole, he shall not see that. So there are things in which a 
man may goe beyond his reason, and yet not meet with faith 
neither : of such a kinde are those things which concerne 
the locahty of hell, and the materiaUty of the torments thereof. 
For that hell is a certaine and limited place, beginning here 
and ending there, and extending no farther, or that the torments 
of hell be materiall or elementary torments, which in naturall 
consideration can have no proposition, no affection, nor 
apphablenesse to the tormenting of a spirit, these things 
neither settle my reason, nor binde my faith ; neither opinion, 
that it is or is not so, doth command our reason so but that 
probable reasons may be brought on the other side ; neither 
opinion doth so command our faith but that a man may be 
saved, though hee thinke the contrary ; for in such points it 
is alwaies lawful to thinke so as we finde does most advance 
and exalt our owne devotion and Gods glory in our estimation. 
But when we shall have given to those words, by which hell is 
expressed in the Scriptures, the heaviest significations that 
either the nature of those words can admit, or as they are 
types and representations of hell, as fire, and brimstone, and 
weeping, and gnashing, and darknesse, and the worme, and as 


they are laid together in the Prophet, Tophet (that is, hell) is 
deepe and large (there is the capacity and content, roome-enough) . 
It is a pile of fire and much wood (there is the durablenesse of it) 
and the breath of the Lord to kindle it, like a streame of Brimstone, 
(there is the vehemence of it :) when all is done, the hell of hells, 
the torment of torments, is the everlasting absence of God, and 
the everlasting impossibility of returning to his presence. 
Horrendum est, sayes the Apostle, It is a fearefull thing to fall 
into the hands of the living God. Yet there was a case in which 
David found an ease to fall into the hands of God, to scape the 
hands of men. Horrendum est, when Gods hand is bent to 
strike, it is a fearefull thing, to fall into the hands of the living 
God ; but to fall out of the hands of the living God is a horror 
beyond our expression, beyond our imagination. 

That God should let my soule fall out of His hand into a 
bottomlesse pit, and roll an unremovable stone upon it, and 
leave it to that which it finds there (and it shall finde that there 
which it never imagined, till it came thither) and never thinke 
more of that soule, never have more to doe with it ; that 
of that providence of God that studies the life of every weed 
and worme and ant and spider and toad and viper there 
should never, never, any beame flow out upon me ; that that 
God who looked upon me when I was nothing, and called me 
when I was not, as though I had been, out of the womb and 
depth of darknesse, will not looke upon me now, when, though 
a miserable and a banished and a damned creature, yet I 
am His creature still, and contribute something to his glory, 
even in my damnation ; that that God, who hath often looked 
upon me in my foulest uncleannesse, and when I had shut out 
the eye of the day, the Sunne, and the eye of the night, the 
Taper, and the eyes of all the world, with curtaines and win- 
dowes and doores, did yet see me, and see me in mercy, by 
making me see that he saw me, and sometimes brought me 
to a present remorse and (for that time) to a forbearing of that 
sinne, should so turne himselfe from me, to his glorious Saints 
and Angels, as that no Saint nor Angel, nor Christ Jesus 
himselfe, should ever pray him to looke towards me, never 
remember him that such a soule there is ; that that God 
who hath so often said to my soule, Quare morieris ? Why 
wilt thou die ? and so often sworne to my soule, Vivit Dominus, 
As the Lord liveth, I would not have thee dye, but live, will 


neither let me dye, nor let me live, but dye an everlasting life, 
and live an everlasting death ; that that God who, when he 
could not get into me by standing and knocking, by His 
ordinary meanes of entring, and by his Word, his mercies, 
hath applied his judgements, and hath shaked the house, 
this body, with agues and palsies, and set this house on fire 
with fevers and calentures, and frighted the Master of the 
house, my Soule, with horrors and heavy apprehensions, and 
so made an entrance into me ; that that God should frustrate 
all his owne purposes and practises upon me, and leave me, 
and cast me away, as though I had cost him nothing ; that 
this God at last should let this soule goe away, as a smoake, 
as a vapour, as a bubble, and that then this soule cannot be 
a smoake, a vapour, nor a bubble, but must lie in darknesse, 
as long as the Lord of light is hght it selfe, and never sparke 
of that hght reach to my soule ; What Tophet is not Paradise, 
what Brimstone is not Amber, what gnashing is not a comfort, 
what gnawing of the worme is not a tickling, what torment 
is not a marriage bed, to this damnation, to be secluded eter- 
nally, eternally, eternally, from the sight of God ? Especially 
to us ; for, as the perpetuall loss of that is most heavy with 
which we have been best acquainted, and to which wee have 
been most accustomed, so shall this damnation, which con- 
sists in the losse of the sight and presence of God, be heavier 
to us then others, because God hath so graciously and so 
evidently and so diversly appeared to us, in his pillar of 
fire, in the Hght of prosperity, and in the pillar of the Cloud, 
in hiding himselfe for a while from us. We that have seene 
him in all the parts of this Commission, in his Word, in his 
Sacraments and in good example, and not beleeved, shall 
be further removed from his sight, in the next world, then 
they to whom he never appeared in this. But vincenti and 
credenti, to him that beleeves aright, and overcomes all ten- 
tations to a wrong behefe, God shall give the accomplishment 
of fulnesse, and fulnesse of joy, and joy rooted in glory, and 
glory established in eternity ; and this eternity is God. To him 
that beleeves and overcomes God shall give himselfe in an 
everlasting presence and fruition, Amen. 

WILLIAM LAUD (1573-1645) 

It is not very often that a Primate of All England is publicly 
executed, or that a sermon is preached by the side of a block 
and waiting axe. Among historic sermons, then, a place must 
be found for Archbishop Laud's discourse upon the scaffold. 
The original sentence upon the aged patriarch had been death 
by hanging, which the Commons for a time insisted should take 
place, until a scandalized public opinion compelled them to 
consent to the Archbishop's petition that he might be beheaded. 
It was noted by Heylin as a coincidence that January 10 was 
the feast of St. William, archbishop of Bourges, to whose 
career Laud's bore some resemblance. 

On a medal struck after the even deeper tragedy of 1649, 
Laud is described as " prsecursor Caroli." The immense 
significance of these two blood-sheddings is this, that they 
proved that the real " Reformation principle " of a purified 
Catholicism was — what had hitherto hung in the balance — 
a working one, not a paper theory, and that the reformed 
Church of England, in spite of many ambiguities and failings, 
was a spiritual mother for whose love the highest and greatest 
would resolvedly lay down their lives. 

The subjoined account of Laud's decollation is taken from 
the seventh edition (1747) of England's Black Tribunal. 

A perfect Relation of the Suffering and Execution of the Most Reverend Father 
in God, William Lord Archbishop of Canterbury : With his Last Dying 
Speech and Deportment on the Scaffold, Jan. 10, 1644. 

The time between the sentence and the execution he spent 
in prayers and applications to the Lord his God ; having 
obtained, though not without some difficulty, a chaplain of 
his own to attend upon him, and to assist him in the work 
of his preparation : though little preparation needed to receive 
that blow, which could not but be welcome, because long 
expected. For so well was he studied in the art of dying (especi- 
ally in the last and strictest part of his imprisonment) that, 
by continual fasting, watching, prayers, and such like acts of 


WILLIAM LAUD (1573-1645) 71 

Christian humiliation, his flesh was rarefied into spirit, and the 
whole man so fitted for eternal glories, that he was more than 
half in Heaven before Death brought his bloody (but trium- 
phant) chariot to convey him thither. Friday, Jan. 10, 1644, 
the fatal morning being come, he first applied himself to his 
private prayers, and so continued 'till Pennington, and others 
of their publick officers, came to conduct him to the scaffold, 
which he ascended with so brave a courage, such a chearful 
countenance, as if he had mounted rather to behold a triumph 
than to be made a sacrifice, and came not there to die, but 
to be translated. And, to say truth, it was no scaffold, but a 
throne, a throne whereon he shortly was to receive a crown, 
even the most glorious crown of martyrdom. And though some 
rude, uncivil people reviled him as he passed along with 
opprobrious language, as loth to let him go to the grave in 
peace, it never discomposed his thoughts, nor disturbed his 
patience : for he had profited so well in the school of Christ, 
that " when he was reviled, he reviled not again ; when he 
suffered, he threatened [not], but committed his cause to 
him that judgeth righteously." And as he did not fear the 
frowns, so neither did he covet the applause, of the vulgar 
herd ; and therefore rather chose to read what he had to speak 
unto the people than to affect the ostentation either of memory 

or wit in that dreadful agony 

The speech and prayer being ended, he gave the prayer, 
which he read, unto Dr. Sterne, desiring him to show it to his 
other chaplains, that they might know how he departed out 
of this world, and so prayed God to shew his mercies and 
blessings on them. And noting how one Hind had employed 
himself in taking a copy of his speech as it came from his mouth, 
he desired him not to do him wrong in publishing a false or 
imperfect copy. . . This done, he next applied himself to the 
fatal block, as to the haven of his rest ; but finding the way 
full of people, who had placed themselves upon the theatre 
to behold the tragedy, he desired he might have room to die, 
beseeching them to let him have an end of his miseries, which 
he had endured very long. All which he did with so serene 
and calm a mind as if he had been rather taking order for 
another man's funeral, than making way unto his own. Being 
come near the block, he put off his doublet, and used some 
words to this effect : " God's Will be done, I am willing to go 


out of this world, no man can be more willing to send me out 
of it." And seeing through the chinks of the boards that 
some people were got under the scaffold, about the very place 
where the block was seated, he called on the officers for some 
dust to stop them, saying, it was no part of his desires that 
his blood should fall upon the heads of the people. Never did 
man put off mortahty with a braver courage, nor look upon 
his bloody and malicious enemies with more Christian charity ; 
and thus far he was gone on in his way towards Paradise with 
such a primitive magnanimity as equall'd, if not exceeded, 
the example of ancient martyrs, when he was somewhat 
interrupted in his quiet passage by one Sir John Clot worthy, 
a firebrand brought from Ireland by the Earl of Warwick, 
to increase the combustions in this kingdom, who finding that 
the mockings and revilings of malicious people had no power 
to move him, or sharpen him into any discontent or shew of 
passion, would needs put in and try what he could do with his 
spunge and vinegar ; and stepping to him near the block, 
asked him (with such a purpose as the Scribes and Pharisees 
used to propose questions to our Lord and Saviour), not to 
learn by him, but to tempt him, or to expose him to some 
disadvantage with the standers-by, which was the comfort- 
ablest saying which a dying man could have in his mouth ? 
To which he meekly made this answer, Cupio dissolvi, et esse 
cum Christo ; i.e., " I desire to be dissolv'd, and to be with 
Christ." Being asked again, What was the fittest speech a 
man could use, to express his confidence and assurance ? he 
answered with the same spirit and meekness, that such assur- 
ance was to be found within, and that no words were able to 
express it rightly. Which when it would not satisfy the trou- 
blesome and impertinent man (who aimed at something else 
than such satisfaction) unless he gave some word or place of 
Scripture, whereupon such assurance might be truly founded, 
he used some words to this effect, That it was the Word of 
God concerning Christ and his dying for us. And so without 
expecting any further questions (for he perceived, by the 
manner of Sir John's proceedings, that there would be no end 
of his interruptions, if he hearken'd any longer to him) he 
turned towards his executioner (the gentler and discreeter 
man of the two) and gave him money, saying, without the 
least distemper or change of countenance, " Here, honest 


friend, God forgive thee, and do thy office upon me with 
mercy " ; and having given a sign when the blow should come, 
he kneeled down upon his knees, and pray'd as followeth : — 

" Lord, I am coming as fast as I can, I know I must pass 
through the shadow of death before I can come to see thee : 
but it is but umbra mortis, a meer shadow of death, a little 
darkness upon nature ; but thou by thy merits and passion 
hast broke through the jaws of death. So, Lord, receive my 
soul, and have mercy upon me, and bless this kingdom with 
peace and plenty, and with brotherly love and charity, that 
there may not be this effusion of Christian blood amongst 
them, for Jesus Christ's sake, if it be thy will." 

Then laying his head upon the block, and praying silently 
to himself, he said aloud, Lord, receive my soul, which was the 
signal given to the executioner, who very dexterously took 
it off at one blow, his soul ascending on the wings of Angels 
into Abraham's bosom, and leaving his body on the scaffold 
to the care of men ; a spectacle so unpleasing unto most of 
those who had desir'd his death with much heat and passion, 
that many who came with greedy eyes to see him suffer went 
back with weeping eyes when they saw him dead. . . . 

It was observed that whereas other men, when they come 
to the block, use to look pale, and wan, and ghastly, and are 
even dead before the blow, he, on the contrary, seemed more 
fresh and chearful than he had done any part of the day before ; 
a clear and gallant spirit being like the sun, which shews 
greatest always at the setting. And as the Scripture tells us 
of St. Stephen, the Protomartyr, that, whilst he spake his last 
oration before the chief priests and elders of the Jews, " they 
of the Council, looking steadfastly upon him, saw his face 
as if it had been of an angel " : so was it generally observ'd, 
not without astonishment, that all the while our Martyr 
prayed upon the block, the sun, which had not shewn itself 
all the day till then, did shine directly on his face, which made 
him look most comfortably (that I say not gloriously), but 
presently, as soon as the blow was given, withdrew behind a 
cloud again, and appeared no more. 

A Sermon from the Scaffold 
Good People, 

This is an uncomfortable time to preach ; yet I shall 
begin with a text of Scripture, Heh. xii, 2. " Let us run with 


patience that race which is set before us, looking unto Jesus 
the Author and Finisher of our Faith ; who for the joy that 
was set before him, endured the Cross, despising the shame, 
and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God." 

I have been long in my race ; and how I have looked to 
Jesus, the Author and Finisher of my Faith, he best knows : 
I am now come to the end of my race ; and here I find the 
Cross, a death of shame : but the shame must be despised, 
or no coming to the right hand of God. Jesus despised the 
shame for me ; and God forbid but I should despise the shame 
for him. I am going apace (as you see) towards the Red Sea, 
and my feet are now upon the very brink of it ; an argument, 
I hope, that God is bringing me into the Land of Promise, 
for that was the way through which he led his people : but 
before they came to it, he instituted a passover for them ; 
a Lamb it was, but it must be eaten with sour herbs. I shall 
obey, and labour to digest the sour herbs, as well as the Lamb : 
and I shall remember it is the Lord's Passover : I shall not 
think of the herbs, nor be angry with the Hand which gathereth 
them ; but look up only to him who instituted that, and governs 
these ; for men can have no more power over me than what 
is given them from above. I am not in love with this passage 
through the Red Sea, for I have the weakness and infirmities 
of flesh and blood plentifully in me : and I have prayed with 
my Saviour, ut transiret calix iste, that this cup of red wine 
might pass from me. But if not, God's will (not mine) be done ; 
and I shall most willingly drink of this cup as deep as he 
pleases, and enter into this Sea, yea, and pass through it, in 
the way that he shall lead me. 

But I would have it remembered (good people) that when 
God's servants were in this boisterous sea, and Aaron among 
them, the Egyptians which persecuted them (and did, in a 
manner, drive them into that Sea) were drowned in the same 
waters, while they were in pursuit of them. I know my God 
whom I serve is able to deliver me from this sea of blood, as 
he was to deliver the Three Children from the Furnace ; and 
(I most humbly thank my Saviour for it) my resolution is 
now as theirs was then : they would not worship the image 
the King had set up, nor will I the imaginations which the 
people are setting up ; nor will I forsake the Temple, and the 
truth of God, to follow the bleating of Jeroboam's calves in 


Dan and Bethel. And as for this people, they are at this day 
miserably misled (God, of his mercy, open their eyes, that they 
may see the right way) , for at this day the blind lead the blind ; 
and if they go on both will certainly fall into the ditch. For 
myself, I am (and I acknowledge it in all humility) a most 
grievous sinner many ways, by thought, word, and deed ; 
and I can't doubt, but that God hath mercy in store for me, 
a poor penitent, as well as for other sinners. I have now, upon 
this sad occasion, ransacked every comer of my heart ; and 
yet, I thank God, I have not found (among the ma.ny) any one 
sin which deserves death, by any known law of this kingdom. 
And yet hereby I charge nothing upon my Judges ; for if they 
proceed upon proof (by valuable witnesses) I, or any other 
innocent, may be justly condemn'd : and I thank God, though 
the weight of the sentence hes heavy upon me, I am as quiet 
within as ever I was in my Life. And though I am not only 
the first Archbishop, but the first man, that ever died by an 
ordinance of Parhament, yet some of my predecessors have 
gone this way, though not by this means : for Elphegus was 
hurried away and lost his head by the Danes ; and Simon 
Sudbury, in the fury of Wat Tyler and his fellows. Before 
these, St. John Baptist had his head danc'd off by a lewd 
woman ; and St. Cyprian, archbishop of Carthage, submitted 
his head to a persecuting sword. Many examples (great and 
good) and they teach me patience ; for I hope my cause in 
Heaven will look of another dye than the colour that is put 
upon it here. And some comfort it is to me, not only that 
I go the way of these great men, in their several generations, 
but also that my charge (as foul as it is made) looks like 
that of the Jews against St. Paul, {Acts xxv, 3), for he was 
accused for the Law and the Temple, i.e., Religion ; and like 
that of St. Stephen {Acts vi, 14) for breaking the ordinances 
which Moses gave, i.e., Law and Religion, the Holy Place 
and the Temple, (ver. 13). But you will say, Do I then 
compare myself with the integrity of St. Paul and St. 
Stephen ? No, far be that from me ; I only raise a com- 
fort to myself, that these great saints and servants of God 
were laid at in their times, as I am now. And 'tis 
memorable that St. Paul, who helped on this accusation 
against St. Stephen, did after fall under the very same himself. 
Yea, but here's a great clamour that I would have brought in 


Popery ; I shall answer that more fully by and bye ; in the 
mean time, you know what the Pharisees said against Christ 
himself, "If we let him alone, all men will believe in him, 
et venient Romani, and the Romans will come, and take away 
both our place and nation." Here was a causeless cry against 
Christ, that the Romans will come. And see how just the 
judgment of God was ; they crucified Christ, for fear lest the 
Romans should come : and his death was it which brought 
in the Romans upon them, God punishing them with that 
which they had most feared. And I pray God this clamour 
of Venient Romani (of which I have given no cause) don't 
help to bring them in ; for the Pope never had such a harvest 
in England since the Reformation as he hath now upon the 
sects and divisions that are amongst us. In the mean time, 
" by honour and dishonour, by good report and evil report, 
as a deceiver and yet true," am I passing through this world, 
2 Cor. vi, 8. 

And, first, this I shall be bold to speak of the King our gracious 
Sovereign : he hath been much traduced also for bringing in 
Popery ; but, on my conscience (of which I shall give God a 
very present account), I know him to be as free from this charge 
as any man living ; and I hold him to be as sound a Protestant 
(according to the religion by law established) as any man 
in this kingdom, and that he wiU venture his life as far and as 
freely for it ; and I think I do, or should know, both his affec- 
tion to rehgion, and his grounds for it, as fully as any man in 

The second particular is concerning this great and populous 
city (which God bless) . Here hath been of late a fashion taken 
up, to gather hands, and then go to the great court of this 
kingdom (the Parliament) and clamour for justice ! As if that 
great and wise court, before whom the causes come, (which 
are unknown to the many) could not, or would not do justice, 
but at their appointment. A way which may endanger many 
an innocent man, and pluck his blood upon their own heads, 
and perhaps upon their cities also. And this hath been lately 
practised against myself (the Magistrates standing still and 
suffering them to openly proceed from parish to parish without 
check). God forgive the setters of this, (with all my heart I 
beg it) but many well-meaning people are caught by it. In 
St. Stephen's case, when nothing else would serve, " they 


stirred up the people against him : " and Herod went the same 
way, when he kill'd St. James ; yet he would not venture 
upon St. Peter, 'till he found out how the other pleased the 
people. But take heed of having your hands full of blood, 
for there is a time (best known to himself) when God (above 
other sins) " makes inquisition for blood " ; and when that 
inquisition is on foot, the Psalmist tells us, that God remembers 
(but that's not all he remembers) " and forgets not the com- 
plaint of the poor," that is, whose blood is shed by oppression, 
(verse 9). Take heed of this. " 'Tis a fearful thing to fall 
into the hands of the living God," but then especially when he 
is making inquisition for blood ; and, with my prayers to avert 
it, I do heartily desire this City to remember the prophecy 
that is expressed, Jer. xxvi, 15. 

The third particular is the poor Church of England. It 
hath flourished, and been a shelter to other neighbouring 
Churches, when storms have driven upon them. But, alas ! 
now 'tis in a storm itself, and God only knows whether, or how, 
it shall get out ; and, which is worse than a storm from without, 
it's become like an oak cleft to shivers with wedges made out 
of its own body, and at every cleft prophaneness and irreligion 
is entering in, while, as Prosper speaks (in his second book 
De Vitce Comtemptu, cap. 4), " Men that introduce prophane- 
ness are cloak'd over with the name Religionis Imaginariae, 
of Imaginary Religion " ; for we have lost the substance, 
and dweU too much in opinion ; and that Church which all 
the Jesuits' machinations could not ruin, is fallen into danger 
by her own. 

The last particular, for I am not willing to be too long, is 
myself : I was born and baptized in the bosom of the Church 
of England established by law ; in that profession I have ever 
since lived, and in that I come now to die : this is no time to 
dissemble with God, least of all in matters of religion, and 
therefore I desire it may be remembered, I have always lived 
in the Protestant religion, established in England, and in that 
I come now to die. What clamours and slanders I have endured 
for labouring to keep an uniformity in the external service 
of God, according to the doctrine and discipline of this Church, 
all men know, and I have abundantly felt. 

Now at last I am accused of high treason in Parhament, a 
crime which my soul ever abhorred ; this treason was charged 


to consist of two parts, " an endeavour to subvert the laws 
of the land," and a like " endeavour to overthrow the true 
Protestant religion established by law." Besides my answers 
to the several charges, I protested my innocence in both 
Houses. It was said, prisoner's protestations at the bar must 
not be taken. I can bring no witness of my heart, and the 
intentions thereof ; therefore I must come to my protestation, 
not at the bar, but my protestation at this hour and instant 
of my death ; in which, I hope all men will be such charitable 
Christians as not to think I would die and dissemble, being 
instantly to give God an account for the truth of it. I do 
therefore, in the presence of God and his holy Angels, take 
it upon my death, that I never endeavour'd the subversion 
either of law or religion : and I desire you all to remember 
this protest of mine for my innocency, in these and from all 
treasons whatsoever. I have been accused likewise as an 
enemy to parliaments. No, I understand them, and the 
benefit that comes by them, too well to be so. But I did mis- 
like the mis-government of some parliaments many, many 
ways, and I had good reason for it. For corruptio optimi est 
pessima, there is no corruption in the world so bad as that 
which is of the best thing in itself ; for the better the thing 
is in nature, the worse it is corrupted. And, that being the 
highest court, over which no other have jurisdiction, when 'tis 
misinformed or misgoverned the subject is left without all 
remedy. But I have done, I forgive all the world, all and 
every one of those bitter enemies which have persecuted me, 
and humbly desire to be forgiven of God first, and then of every 
man, whether I have offended him or not, if he do but conceive 
that I have. Lord, do thou forgive me, and I beg forgiveness 
of him. And so I heartily desire you to join in prayer with me. 

JEREMY TAYLOR (1613-1667) 

Bishop Taylor's career corresponds with that half-century 
of transformation which changed England from a theological 
to a political nation, from the naivete of the old world to the 
self-conscious complexity of the new. It was the period of 
the most melodious purity of the English language, simplified 
from the stiffly-brocaded and somewhat, cumbrous and embar- 
rassed stateliness of Hooker, and not yet declining into the 
gentlemanly elegance of Tillotson, Burnet and Shaftesbury. 
Taylor's immortality must be that of a supreme literary artist, 
a prose-writer whose brilliance is not one of mere sparkling 
conceits veiling poverty of idea or feebleness of spiritual 
intensity, but is an imaginative beauty and opulence, combined 
with naturalness, tenderness and limpid simplicity, gaining 
for him long ago the title of " the Shakespeare of Enghsh 
prose." All that glistens in him is gold. His sweetness is 
not sugary, even when most luscious. If he is " flowery," or 
at least florid, it is only as some happy Sicilian valley is fragrant 
\vith spontaneous blooms. " His pre-occupation," says Mr. 
Gosse, " is with beauty in the most gorgeous scarlet and gold 
of fancy, and accompanied by flutes and hautboys of calcu- 
lated cadence."! When Hallam complains of Tayloi s 
" Asiatic " but " not altogether unmusical " sentences, ^ the 
memory turns to the exquisitely gushing music of the " Holy 
Dying," matching those countless gems of deKcately jewelled 
thought which, as Mr. Gosse remarks, came across our enchanted 
vision like a perfect marble campanile against the blue southern 
sky. And it is all much more than verbal artifice. Was it 

^ Jeremy Taylor, p. 218. 
* Lit. of Europe, ii, 360. 



not a perusal of " Holy Living " which made John Wesley 
resolve to dedicate every part of his life a sacrifice to God ? 
Upon Jeremy Taylor's own life the Cross was laid, besides 
his share in the sorrows of his King, whom he spoke of in after 
years as " that brave king," " that dear departed saint," and 
in those of " God's afflicted handmaid, the Church of England." 
He was twice or thrice imprisoned, and more and more he came 
to be looked to as the general ghostly father and consoler of 
distressed royalism. As a fellow of Caius, not yet of age, he 
had occupied the pulpit of St. Paul's, like " some young angel 
newly descended from the visions of glory," and crowds had 
gathered to hear him, till one day the Primate of All England 
sent for him to preach, afterwards declaring that the sermon 
was " beyond exception and beyond imitation." With his 
usual generous alertness in finding out and encouraging youthful 
genius and piety. Laud made Taylor his chaplain and found 
him opportunities of study and cultured companionship, 
without which precocious preaching would be empty wind and 
the young man's " mighty parts " frittered away. He procured 
him in 1636 a fellowship at Oxford, and a chaplaincy to the 
King. In 1638 Bishop Juxon presented him to the parsonage 
of Uppingham, where, a few years later, his house was plundered, 
his estate seized, and his family driven out of doors. In 1642, 
being with Charles at Oxford, his "Episcopacy Asserted" was 
published there by the King's command. Thenceforward 
for eighteen years he was an exile, following at first the 
military fortunes of his royal master and afterwards trying 
to make a livelihood by keeping school in wild Carmarthen- 
shire, where this shining star of literature was joint-author 
of A new and easie institution of Grammar. But Dr. 
Taylor found a generous patron in Richard Vaughan, Earl 
of Carbery, who made him chaplain of Golden Grove ; and here, 
amid the romantic loveliness of the Towey Vale, he found, as 
he says, " in the great storm which dashed the vessel of the 
Church all in pieces," a quiet haven for his little barque. 

JEREMY TAYLOR (1613-1667) 81 

The suppression of the Church service was not as yet thorough- 
going, Lord Carbery had affinities with the parhamentary side, 
and Golden Grove afforded Taylor a tranquil retreat and a 
refined circle of appreciative listeners to a series of matchless 
discourses, fifty-three of which, delivered in 1651, were after- 
wards pubhshed by him imder the title of Eniautos, " the 
Year." Two of these deal with the state of holy wedlock, 
under the title of " The Marriage Ring," and are given below in 
a somewhat abbreviated form. It must be confessed that to 
the modern reader the luxuriance of classical quotation and 
allusion in the original is almost insupportable, and that the 
teaching seems to stagger and be crushed under the weight 
of its golden ornaments. The recondite character of these 
citations, in Mr. Gosse's opinion, would not appear excessive 
to auditors accustomed to hear long passages recited from 
the Greek and Latin Fathers. But after making every allow- 
ance for the trained and disciplined capacity of a highly 
cultured and artistic age, contrasted with the slipshod impa- 
tience and ill-educated inattention of a hurried and utilitarian 
era Hke our own, the suspicion stiU obtrudes itself on the mind 
that the sermons were not delivered quite as they are printed. 
Mr. Gosse remarks about these sermons : — 

" Jeremy Taylor was distinguished from those EngUsh 
preachers who had most prominently preceded him in that 
he was in no sense an improvisatore. His best sermons are 
composed with extreme care ; on every page they bear evidence 
of the long delays of art. It is important to observe that he 
arrived at the full stature of his genius at a time when the 
English Church had no need of a TertuUian. In 1651 no obliga- 
tion lay upon one of the hunted ministers of a faUen Episco- 
pacy to strike at such vices as ambition or gallantry or the greed 
of gold. What was wanted in that melancholy hour was a 
physician of souls, one who had the skill to comfort the racked 
nerves and pour oil into the aching wounds of the Church, 
This precisely suited the temperament of Jeremy Taylor, 

6— (3433) 


who was nothing of a pontiff and nothing of a satirist, but 
whose seraphic gentleness exhaled itself in the deep and 
comfortable balms of consolation. 

" Accordingly in the Sermons of Taylor we find a studied 
avoidance of the fury of the preachers of an earlier time. 
His acquaintance with the human heart inspired homilies 
which were addressed, not to indifferent or hostile listeners, 
but to those who were greedy of pious counsel. In these days 
the sermon was beginning to be a literary instrument, and 
Taylor bends his genius to use it so as to correct bad taste as 
well as bad morals. . . . Taylor's appeal to the conscience is 
always direct, and he throws his art, the unequalled beauty 
of his style, into the presentment of dogma with a passion of 
strenuous piety. . . 

" The teaching of Taylor is in the main aristocratic. No 
temptation, no frailty, of the rich is allowed to pass unindicated 
or unreproved. The preacher is speaking in the chapel of a 
great house, and mainly to those who are responsible for their 
wealth, their intellect, or their influence. Outside are the 
hordes of the wild Welsh, but of them he never speaks and 
never seems to think. It was Bossuet, and not Taylor, who, 
ten years later at the court of Louis XIV, was to introduce the 
definite consideration of the cause of the poor, and to bid the 
Christian world listen to the ' cri de misere a I'entour de vous, 
qui devrait nous fondre le coeur.' 

" For ten years the current of Jeremy Taylor's life had now 
been absolutely unbroken, except by the hand of death. He 
had lived, almost as retired as Moses in his cloud, in a seques- 
tered vaUey of South Wales, which was full of the sound of 
waters, and undisturbed by human voices. By a dispensation 
which might easily have seemed miraculous, through the 
cruellest time of distraction and peril, this exquisite talent had 
been preserved intact, hidden as if in the hollow of a mighty 
hand, granted every favourable opportunity for growing to 
its full stature. In that beautiful woodland, with a roll of the 


winding Towey bent round him like an arm, Jeremy Taylor 
had grown to be the greatest prose-writer in England." 

Taylor's loved wife died in March, 1651 — on April 1 he had 
" lately " buried her — and " The Marriage Ring " was preached 
some time before Ascensiontide in 1651. The " Winter " 
series begins with an Advent Sunday sermon, and if the twenty- 
five are arranged, as seems hkely, in the order of preaching, 
the seventeenth would have been delivered at the end of 
March. I fancy this point has not been noticed before, but it 
lends an added significance to the double-sermon. And it 
was only a few months since Frances Countess of Carbery 
— Taylor's " dear lady, that rare soul " — had been taken from 
her lord. 

Some very revolutionary theories about the marriage bond 
were abroad in those days, and there was also a violent aversion 
among the dominant puritans to the solemnizing of matrimony 
by a rehgious service, the marriage ring being regarded as an 
especial symbol of superstition. In 1654 civil marriage was 
made compulsory. Milton had the noble regard for the con- 
temporary Taylor which one uplifted spirit has for another. But 
it is impossible not to contrast the teaching of "The Marriage 
Ring " with Milton's " Turkish contempt " for womanhood and 
his tyrannical domestic attitude towards the co-heir with him 
of the grace of life; though he, too, came to have a "late 
espoused saint." 

The Marriage Ring 

This is a great mystery, but I speak concerning Christ and the Church. Never- 
theless, let every one of you in particular so love his wife even as himself, and 
the wife see that she reverence her husband. — Ephesians v, 32, 33. 

The first blessing God gave to man was society : and that 
society was a marriage, and that marriage was confederate 
by God himself, and hallowed by a blessing. The next blessing 
was " the promise of the Messias," and that also increased in 
men and women a wonderful desire of marriage : to be childless 
in Israel was a sorrow to the Hebrew women great as the slavery 
of Egypt, or their dishonours in the land of their captivity. 


But when the Messias was come, and the doctrine was 
pubhshed, and his ministers but few, and his disciples were to 
suffer persecution, and to be of an unsettled dwelling, it pleased 
God in this new creation to inspire into the hearts of his ser- 
vants a disposition and strong desires to live a single life, lest 
the state of marriage should in that conjunction of things be- 
come an accidental impediment to the dissemination of the 
Gospel, which called men from a confinement in their domestic 
charges to travel and flight and poverty and difficulty and 
martyrdom : upon this necessity the Apostles and apostolical 
men published doctrines, declaring the advantages of single 
life, not by any commandment of the Lord, but by the spirit 
of prudence. 

But although single life hath in it privacy and simplicity 
of affairs, such solitariness and sorrow, such leisure and in- 
active circumstances of living, that there are more spaces for 
religion if men would use them to these purposes ; and because 
it may have in it much religion and prayers, and must have 
in it a perfect mortification of our strongest appetites, it is 
therefore a state of great excellency ; yet concerning the state 
of marriage, we are taught from Scripture and the sayings 
of wise men, great things are honourable. Marriage was 
ordained by God, instituted in Paradise, was the relief of a 
natural necessity, and the first blessing from the Lord ; he 
gave to man not a friend, but a wife, that is, a friend and a 
wife too (for a good woman is in her soul the same that a man 
is, and she is a woman only in her body ; that she may have 
the excellency of the one, and the usefulness of the other, and 
become amiable in both). It is the seminary of the Church 
and daily brings forth sons and daughters unto God ; it was 
ministered to by angels, and Raphael waited upon a young 
man that he might have a blessed marriage, and that that 
marriage might repair two sad families, and bless all their 
relatives. Our blessed Lord, though he was born of a maiden, 
yet she was veiled under the cover of marriage, and she was 
married to a widower ; for Joseph the supposed father of our 
Lord had children by a former wife. The first miracle that 
ever Jesus did was to do honour to a wedding. Marriage was 
in the world before sin, and is in all ages of the world the 
greatest and most effective antidote against sin, in which all 
the world had perished, if God had not made a remedy. And 


although sin hath soured marriage, and stuck the man's head 
with cares, and the woman's bed with sorrows in the pro- 
duction of children, yet these are but throes of life and glory, 
and " she shall be saved in child-bearing, if she be found in 
faith and righteousness." Marriage is a school and exercise 
of virtue ; and though marriage hath cares, yet the single life 
hath desires, which are more troublesome and more dangerous, 
and often ends in sin, while the cares are but instances of 
duty and exercises of piety. Here is the proper scene of 
piety and patience, of the duty of parents and the charity 
of relatives ; here kindness is spread abroad, and love is united 
and made firm as a centre. Marriage is the nursery of heaven ; 
the virgin sends prayers to God, but she carries but one soul 
to him ; but the state of marriage fills up the numbers of the 
elect, and hath in it the labour of love, and the delicacies of 
friendship, the blessing of society, and the union of hands 
and hearts ; it hath in it less of beauty, but more of safety, 
than the single hfe ; it hath more care, but less danger ; it is 
more merry, and more sad ; is fuller of sorrows, and fuller of 
joys ; it lies under more burdens, but is supported by all the 
strengths of love and charity, and those burdens are delightful. 
Marriage is the mother of the world, and preserves kingdoms, 
and fills cities and churches and heaven itself. Celibacy, 
like the fly in the heart of an apple, dwells in a perpetual sweet- 
ness, but sits alone, and is confined and dies in singularity ; 
but marriage, like the useful bee, builds a house and gathers 
sweetness from every flower, and labours and unites into socie- 
ties and republics, and sends out colonies, and feeds the world 
with delicacies, and obeys their king, and keeps order, and 
exercises many virtues, and promotes the interest of mankind, 
and is that state of good things to which God hath designed 
the present constitution of the world. 

Single life makes men in one instance to be like angels, 
but marriage in very many things makes the chaste pair to 
be like to Christ. " This is a great mystery," but it is the 
symbohcal and sacramental representation of the greatest 
mysteries of our religion. Christ descended from his Father's 
bosom, and contracted his divinity with flesh and blood, and 
married our nature, and we became a Church, the spouse of 
the Bridegroom, which he cleansed with his blood, and gave 
her his Holy Spirit for a dowry, and heaven for a jointure ; 


begetting children unto God by the Gospel. This spouse he 
hath joined to himself by an excellent charity, he feeds her 
at his own table, and lodges her nigh his own heart, provides 
for all her necessities, relieves her sorrows, determines her 
doubts, guides her wanderings, he is become her head, and 
she as a signet upon his right hand. He first indeed was be- 
trothed to the synagogue and had many children by her, but 
she forsook her love, and then he married the church of the 
Gentiles, and by her as by a second venter had a more numerous 
issue, " atque una domus est omnium filiorum ejus," " all the 
children dwell in the same house," and are heirs of the same 
promises, entitled to the same inheritance. Here is the 
eternal conjunction, the indissoluble knot, the exceeding love 
of Christ, the obedience of the Spouse, the communicating of 
goods, the uniting of interests, the fruit of marriage, a celestial 
generation, a new creature. " Sacramentum hoc magnum 
est," " this is the sacramental mystery," represented by the 
holy rite of marriage ; so that marriage is divine in its institu- 
tion, sacred in its union, holy in the mystery, sacramental in 
its signification, honourable in its appellative, religious in its 
employments : it is advantage to the societies of men, and it 
is " holiness to the Lord." " Dico autem in Christo et 
Ecclesia," " it must be in Christ and the church." 

If this be not observed, marriage loses its mysteriousness : 
but because it is to effect much of that which it signifies, it 
concerns all that enter into those golden fetters to see that 
Christ and his Church be in at every of its periods, and that 
it be entirely conducted and overruled by religion ; for so the 
Apostle passes from the sacramental rite to the real duty. 
" Nevertheless," that is, although the former discourse were 
wholly to explicate the conjunction of Christ and his Church 
by this simihtude, yet it hath in it this real duty, " that the 
man love his wife, and the wife reverence her husband : " 

" In Christo et Ecclesia " ; that begins all, and there is 
great need it should be so ; for they that enter into a state 
of marriage cast a die of the greatest contingency, and yet 
of the greatest interest in the world, next to the last throw 
for eternity. Life or death, felicity or a lasting sorrow, are in 
the power of marriage. A woman indeed ventures most, for 
she hath no sanctuary to retire to from an evil husband ; she 
m ust dwell upon her sorrow, and hatch the eggs which her own 


folly or infelicity hath produced ; and she is more under it, 
because her tormentor hath a warrant of prerogative, and the 
woman may complain to God as subjects do of tyrant princes, 
but otherwise she hath no appeal in the causes of unkindness. 
And though the man can run from many hours of his sadness, 
yet he must return to it again, and when he sits among his 
neighbours he remembers the objection that lies in his bosom, 
and he sighs deeply. 

" Ah turn te miserum, malique fati, 
Quem, attractis pedibus, patente porta, 
Percurrent mugilesque raphanique." 

The boys and the pedlars and the fruiterers shall tell of 
this man, when he is carried to his grave, that he lived and 
died a poor wretched person. The stags in the Greek epigram, 
whose knees were clogged with frozen snow upon the moun- 
tains, came down to the brooks of the valleys, xKifivai vorepoU 
vdfiaaiv odkv yovv, " hoping to thaw their joints with the 
waters of the stream " ; but there the frost overtook them, and 
bound them fast in ice, till the young herdsmen took them in 
their stranger snare. It is the unhappy chance of many men, 
finding many inconveniences upon the mountains of single 
life, they descend into the valleys of marriage to refresh their 
troubles, and there they enter into fetters, and are bound to 
sorrow by the cords of a man's or a woman's peevishness. 
And the worst of the evil is, they are to thank their own follies ; 
for they fell into the snare by entering an improper way : 
Christ and the Church were no ingredients in their choice. 
It is an ill band of affections to tie two hearts together 
by a little thread of red and white. And they can love no 
longer but until the next ague comes ; and they are fond of 
each other but at the chance of fancy, or the smallpox, or 
childbearing, or care, or time, or any thing that can destroy 
a pretty flower. But it is the basest of all when lust is the 
paranymph, and solicits the suit, and makes the contract, 
and joins the hands. Begin therefore with God. Christ is the 
president of marriage, and the Holy Ghost is the fountain 
of purities and chaste loves, and he joins the hearts ; and 
therefore, let our first suit be in the court of heaven, and 
with designs of' piety or safety or charity ; let no impure 
spirit defile the virgin purities and " castifications of the soul " 
(as St. Peter's phrase is) ; let all such contracts begin with 
religious affections. 


Man and wife are equally concerned to avoid all offences 
of each other in the beginning of their conversation. Every 
little thing can blast an infant blossom, and the breath of the 
south can shake the httle rings of the vine, when first they 
begin to curl like the locks of a new-weaned boy ; but when 
by age and consolation they stiffen into the hardness of a 
stem, and have, by the warm embraces of the sun and the 
kisses of heaven, brought forth their clusters, they can endure 
the storms of the north, and the loud noises of a tempest, and 
yet never be broken : so are the early unions of an unfixed 
marriage ; watchful and observant, jealous and busy, inquisi- 
tive and careful, and apt to take alarm at every unkind word. 
For infirmities do not manifest themselves in the first scenes, 
but in the succession of a long society ; and it is not chance 
or weakness when it appears at first, but it is want of love 
or prudence, or it will be so expounded ; and that which appears 
ill at first usually affrights the inexperienced man or woman, 
who makes unequal conjectures, and fancies mighty sorrow 
by the proportions of the new and early unkindness. It is a 
very great passion, or a huge folly, or a certain want of love, 
that cannot preserve the colours and beauties of kindness 
so long as public honesty requires a man to wear their sorrows 
for the death of a friend. Plutarch compares a new marriage 
to a vessel before the hoops are on ; " everything dissolves 
their tender compaginations " ; " but when the joints 
are stiffened and are tied by a firm compliance and propor- 
tioned bending, scarcely can it be dissolved without fire or the 
violence of iron." After the hearts of the man and the wife 
are endeared and hardened by a mutual confidence, and experi- 
ence longer than artifice and pretence can last, there are a 
great many resemblances, and some things present, that dash 
all little unkindnesses in pieces. The little boy in the Greek 
epigram that was creeping down a precipice was invited to his 
safety by the sight of his mother's pap, when nothing else 
could entice him to return : and the bond of common children, 
and the sight of her that nurses what is most dear to him, and 
the endearments of each other in the course of a long society 
and the same relation, is an excellent security to redintegrate 
and to call that love back, which folly and trifling accidents 
would disturb. 

Let man and wife be careful to stifle little things, that, 


as fast as they spring, they be cut down and trod upon ; for 
if they be suffered to grow by numbers, they make the spirit 
peevish, and the society troublesome, and the affections loose 
and easy by an habitual aversation. Some men are more 
vexed with a fly than with a wound. 

Let the husband and wife infinitely avoid a curious 
distinction of mine and thine ; for this hath caused all the 
laws and all the suits and all the wars in the world ; let 
them, who have but one person, have also but one interest. 
" All that a woman hath, is reckoned to the right of her hus- 
band ; not her wealth and her person only, but her reputation 
and her praise " ; so Lucian. But as the earth, the mother of 
all creatures here below, sends up all its vapours and proper 
emissions at the command of the sun, and yet requires them 
again to refresh her own needs, and they are deposited between 
them both in the bosom of a cloud, as a common receptacle, 
that they may cool his flames, and yet descend to make her 
fruitful : so are the proprieties of a wife to be disposed of by 
her lord ; and yet all are for her provisions, it being a part of 
his need to refresh and supply hers, and it serves the interest 
of both while it serves the necessities of either. 

These are the duties of them both, which have common 
regards and equal necessities and obligations ; and, indeed, 
there is scarce any matter of duty but it concerns them both 
alike, and is only distinguished by names, and hath its variety 
by circumstances and little accidents. And what in one is 
called " love " in the other is called " reverence " ; and what 
in the wife is " obedience " the same in the man is " duty." 
He provides, and she dispenses, he gives commandments, 
and she rules by them ; he rules her by authority, and she 
rules him by love. 

Part II 

The next inquiry is more particular, and considers the 
power and duty of man. A husband's power over his wife 
is paternal and friendly, not magisterial and despotic. The 
wife is in " perpetua tutela," under conduct and counsel. 
Homer adds more soft appellatives to the character of a 
husband's duty ; Trarrjp fxkv yap iariv avrfj koI nrorvia fnjrrjp, 
'^Be Ka(7Lyvr)To<i, " Thou art to be a father and a mother to 
her, and a brother " : and great reason, unless the state of 


marriage should be no better than the condition of an orphan. 
For she that is bound to leave father and mother and brother 
for thee either is miserable like a poor fatherless child, or else 
ought to find all these, and more, in thee. It was rarely 
observed of Philo, " When Adam made that fond 
excuse for his folly in eating the forbidden fruit, he said ' The 
woman thou gavest to be with me, she gave me.' He says 
not ' The woman which thou gavest to me,' no such thing ; 
she is none of his goods, none of his possessions, not to be 
reckoned amongst his servants ; God did not give her to him 
so ; but ' the woman thou gavest to be with me,' that is, to 
be my partner, the companion of my joys and sorrows, thou 
gavest her for use, not for dominion." The dominion of a 
man over his wife is no other than as the soul rules the body ; 
for which it takes a mighty care, and uses it with a delicate 
tenderness, and cares for it in all contingencies, and watches 
to keep it from all evils, and studies to make for it fair pro- 
visions, and very often is led by its inclinations and desires, 
and does never contradict its appetites but when they are 
evil, and then also not without some trouble and sorrow. And 
its government comes only to this, it furnishes the body with 
light and understanding, and the body furnishes the soul with 
hands and feet ; and yet even the very government itself 
is divided ; for man and wife in the family are as the sun and 
moon in the firmament of heaven ; he rules by day, and she 
by night, that is, in the lesser and more proper circles of her 
affairs, in the conduct of domestic provisions and necessary 
offices, and shines only by his light, and rules by his authority. 
And, therefore, although there is just measure of sub- 
jection and obedience due from the wife to the husband (as I 
shall after explain), yet nothing of this expressed is in the 
man's character, or in his duty ; he is not commanded to rule, 
nor instructed how, nor bidden to exact obedience, nor to 
defend his privilege ; all his duty is signified by love, " by 
nourishing and cherishing," by being joined with her in all 
the imions of charity, by " not being bitter to her," by " dwel- 
ling with her according to knowledge, giving honour to her." 
So that it seems to be with husbands as it is with bishops and 
priests, to whom much honour is due, but yet so that if they 
stand upon it, and challenge it, they become less honourable. 
And as amongst men and women humility is the way to be 


preferred ; so it is in husbands, they shall prevail by cession, 
by sweetness and counsel and charity and compliance. 

" Be not bitter against her " ; and this is the least index 
and signification of love ; a civil man is never bitter against 
a friend or a stranger, much less to him that enters under his 
roof, and is secured by the laws of hospitality. But a wife 
does all that and more ; she quits all her interest for his love, 
she gives him all that she can give, she is as much the same 
person as another can be the same who is conjoined by love 
and mystery and religion, and all that is sacred and profane. 

" Non equidem hoc dubites, amborum foedere certo 
Consentire dies, et ab uno sidere duci." 

They have the same fortune, the same family, the same children, 
the same rehgion, the same interest, "the same flesh" — "erunt 
duo in carnem unam." And therefore this the Apostle urges 
for his fjbr} wiKpalvere, " no man hateth his own flesh, but 
nourisheth and cherisheth it." And he certainly is strangely 
sacrilegious and a violater of the rights of hospitality and 
sanctuary who uses her rudely who is fled for protection, 
not only to his house, but also to his heart and bosom. 

The marital love is infinitely removed from all possibility of 
rudenesses : it is a thing pure as light, sacred as a temple, 
lasting as the world. " Amicitia, quae desinere potuit, nun- 
quam vera fuit " : said one ; " That love that can cease was 
never true." It is oficXia, so Moses called it ; it is evvota, 
so St. Paul ; it is <pLX6r7]<i, so Homer ; it is <f>t\o<t>po(Tvvr} , so 
Plutarch ; that is, it contains in it all " sweetness " and all 
"society" and "felicity, "and all "prudence" and all "wisdom." 
For there is nothing can please a man without love. And if a 
man be weary of the wise discourses of the Apostles, and of 
the innocency of an even and a private fortune, or hates peace 
or a fruitful year, he hath reaped thorns and thistles from the 
choicest flowers of paradise ; "for nothing can sweeten felicity 
itself, but love." But when a man dwells in love, then the 
breasts of his wife are pleasant as the droppings upon the 
hill of Hermon, her eyes are fair as the light of heaven, she 
is a fountain sealed, and he can quench his thirst, and ease 
his cares, and lay his sorrow down upon her lap, and can retire 
home to his sanctuary and refectory, and his gardens of sweet- 
ness and chaste refreshments. No man can tell but he that 
loves his children, how many delicious accents make a man's 


heart dance in the pretty conversation of those dear pledges ; 
their childishness, their stammering, their little angers, their 
innocence, their imperfections, their necessities, are so many 
little emanations of joy and comfort to him that delights in 
their persons and society. But he that loves not his wife and 
children feeds a lioness at home, and broods a nest of sorrows ; 
and blessing itself cannot make him happy ; so that all the 
commandments of God enjoining a man to " love his wife," 
are nothing but so many necessities and capacities of joy. 
" She that is loved, is safe ; and he that loves is joyful." 
Love is a union of all things excellent ; it contains in it pro- 
portion and satisfaction and rest and confidence ; and I wish 
that this were so much proceeded in that the heathens them- 
selves could not go beyond us in this virtue, and its proper 
and its appendant happiness. Tiberius Gracchus chose to 
die for the safety of his wife ; and yet methinks to a Christian 
to do so should be no hard thing. For many servants will 
die for their masters, and many gentlemen will die for their 
friend ; but the examples are not so many of those that are 
ready to do it for their dearest relatives, and yet some there 
have been. Baptista Fregosa tells of a Neapolitan, that gave 
himself a slave to the Moors, that he might follow his wife ; 
and Dominicus Catalusius, the prince of Lesbos, kept company 
with his lady when she was a leper ; and these are greater 
things than to die. 

But the cases in which this can be required are so rare and 
contingent that Holy Scripture instances not the duty in this 
particular ; but it contains in it that the husband should 
nourish and cherish her, that he should refresh her sorrows 
and entice her fears into confidence and pretty arts of rest ; 
for even the fig-trees that grew in paradise had sharp-pointed 
leaves and harshnesses fit to mortify the too-forward lusting 
after the sweetness of the fruit. But it will concern the pru- 
dence of the husband's love to make the cares and evils as 
simple and easy as he can, by doubling the joys and acts of a 
careful friendship, by tolerating her infirmities (because by so 
doing he either cures her, or makes himself better), by fairly 
expounding all the little traverses of society and communica- 
tion, " by taking every thing by the right handle," as Plutarch's 
expression is ; for there is nothing but may be misinterpreted, 
and yet, if it be capable of a fair construction, it is the office of 


love to make it. Love will account that to be well said 
which, it may be, was not so intended ; and then it may cause 
it to be so, another time. 

Hither also is to be referred that he secure the interest 
of her virtue and felicity by a fair example ; for a wife to a 
husband is a line or superficies, it hath dimensions of its own, 
but no motion or proper affections ; but commonly puts on 
such images of virtues or vices as are presented to her by her 
husband's idea : and if thou beest vicious, complain not that 
she is infected that lies in thy bosom ; the interest of whose 
loves ties her to transcribe thy copy, and write after the 
characters of thy manners. 

Above all the instances of love let him preserve towards 
her an inviolable faith and an unspotted chastity ; for this 
is the marriage ring, it ties two hearts by an eternal band ; 
it is like the cherubim's flaming sword, set for the guard of 
paradise ; he that passes into that garden, now that it is 
immured by Christ and the Church, enters into the shades of 
death. No man must touch the forbidden tree, that in the 
midst of the garden, which is the tree of knowledge and life. 
Chastity is the security of love, and preserves all the mysteri- 
ousness like the secrets of a temple. Under this lock is deposited 
security of families, the union of affections, the repairer of 
accidental breaches. 

This is a grace that is shut up and secured by aU arts of 
heaven, and the defence of laws, the locks and bars of modesty, 
by honour and reputation, by fear and shame, by interest and 
high regards ; and that contract that is intended to be for 
ever is yet dissolved and broken by the violation of this. 
Nothing but death can do so much evil to the holy rites of 
marriage as unchastity and breach of faith can. The shepherd 
Gratis, faUing in love with a she-goat, had his brains beaten 
out with a buck as he lay asleep ; and by the laws of the 
Romans a man might kill his daughter or his wife if he sur- 
prised her in the breach of her holy vows, which are as sacred 
as the threads of life, secret as the privacies of the sanctuary, 
and holy as the society of angels. " Nullae sunt inimicitiae 
nisi amoris acerbae " ; and God, that commanded us to forgive 
our enemies, left it in our choice, and hath not commanded 
us, to forgive an adulterous husband or a wife ; but the offended 
party's displeasure may pass into an eternal separation of 


society and friendship. Now in this grace it is fit that the 
wisdom and severity of the man should hold forth a pure 
taper, that his wife may, by seeing the beauties and trans- 
parencies of that crystal, dress her mind and her body by the 
light of so pure reflexions. It is certain he will expect it from 
the modesty and retirement, from the passive nature and 
colder temper, from the humility and fear, from the honour 
and love, of his wife, that she be pure as the eye of heaven ; and 
therefore it is but reason that the wisdom and nobleness, the 
love and confidence, the strength and severity, of the man 
should be as holy and certain in this grace as he is a severe 
exactor of it at her hands, who can more easily be tempted by 
another, and less by herself. 

These are the little lines of a man's duty, which, like threads 
of light from the body of the sun, do clearly describe all the 
regions of his proper obligations. Now concerning the woman's 
duty. A wife never can become equal but by obeying ; 
but so her power, while it is in minority, makes up the authority 
of the man integral, and becomes one government, as them- 
selves are one man. " Male and female created he them, and 
called their name Adam," saith the Holy Scripture. They are 
but one : and therefore the several parts of this one man 
must stand in the place where God appointed, that the lower 
parts may do their offices in their own station, and promote 
the common interests of the whole. A ruling woman is 
intolerable. But that is not all ; for she is miserable too. 
It is a sad calamity for a woman to be joined to a fool or a 
weak person ; it is like a guard of geese to keep the Capitol ; 
or as if a flock of sheep should read grave lectures to their 
shepherd, and give him orders where he shaU conduct them 
to pasture. " O vere Phrygise, neque enim Phryges." 

But now concerning the measures and limits of this obedience, 
we can best take accounts from Scripture : iv TravTi, saith 
the Apostle, " in all things " ; " ut Domino," " as to the 

But in this also there is some peculiar caution. For although 
in those things which are of the necessary parts of faith and 
holy life the woman is only subject to Christ, who only is and 
can be Lord of consciences, and commands alone where the 
conscience is instructed and convinced : yet, as it is part of the 
man's office to be a teacher and a prophet and a guide and a 


master, so also it will relate very much to the demonstration 
of their affections to obey his counsels, to imitate his virtues, 
to be directed by his wisdom, to have her persuasion measured 
by the lines of his excellent religion, " to partake secretly 
and in her heart, of all his joys and sorrows," to believe 
him comely and fair, though the sun hath drawn a Cyprus over 
him. For as marriages are not to be contracted by the hands 
and eye, but with reason and the hearts, so are these judg- 
ments to be made by the mind, not by the sight : and diamonds 
cannot make the woman virtuous, nor him to value her who 
sees her put them off then when charity and modesty are her 
brightest ornaments. 

Indeed, the outward ornament is fit to take fools, but they 
are not worth the taking ; but she that hath a wise husband 
must entice him to an eternal deamess by the veil of modesty 
and the grave robes of chastity, the ornament of meekness 
and the jewels of faith and charity ; she must have no fucus 
but blushings, her brightness must be purity, and she must 
shine round about with sweetness and friendship, and 
she shall be pleasant while she lives, and desired when she 

" Remember the days of darkness, for they are many." 
The joys of the bridal-chambers are quickly past, and the 
remaining portion of the state is a dull progress, without 
variety of joys, but not without the change of sorrows ; but 
that portion that shall enter into the grave must be eternal. 
It is fit that I should infuse a bunch of myrrh into the festival 
goblet, and, after the Egyptian manner, serve up a dead man's 
bones at a feast : I will only shew it, and take it away again ; 
it will make the wine bitter, but wholesome. But those 
married pairs that live as remembering that they must part 
again, and give an account how they treat themselves and each 
other, shall, at that day of their death, be admitted to glorious 
espousals ; and when they shall live again, be married to their 
Lord, and partake of his glories. 

" All those things that now please us shall pass from us, or 
we from them " ; but those things that concern the other life 
are permanent as the numbers of eternity. And although at 
the resurrection there shall be no relation of husband and wife, 
and no marriage shall be celebrated but the marriage of the 
Lamb, yet then shall be remembered how men and women 


passed through this state which is a type of that, and from this 
sacramental union all holy pairs shall pass to the spiritual 
and eternal, where love shall be their portion, and joys shall 
crown their heads, and they shall he in the bosom of Jesus, 
and in the heart of God to eternal ages. Amen. 

ISAAC BARROW (1630-1677) 

Isaac Barrow, the eminent mathematician and divine, may 
be taken as representing the mid-Stuart period, at the time of 
England's transition from the old theological world to the era 
of experimental philosophy and physical and mathematical 
science as well as of continental " politeness." He was a 
royalist from boyhood, his uncle. Bishop Isaac Barrow, 
having been ousted from his fellowship at Peterhouse in 1643, 
just as the younger Isaac had been entered at that College 
from Charterhouse, as a pensioner, at the age of thirteen. His 
father, an opulent London citizen and mercer, had also suffered 
greatly in his estate for the royal cause. The child himself 
had always been a pickle and at fisticuffs, so that his father 
declared that, should Providence be pleased to remove any of 
his children, Isaac could be best spared. But he was brave 
and honest. He grew up to be, in Tillotson's eyes, " as near 
St. James's ' perfect man ' as was possible to be." 

Barrow was chosen to a Trinity scholarship in 1647, then 
aged seventeen, and though he would not take the Covenant 
his innocent and pious conduct gained him the esteem of the 
College authorities. Nevertheless he would fight the butchers' 
boys in St. Nicholas Shambles. " Thou art a good lad," said 
Dr. Hill, the intruded Master, la5ring his hands on the youth's 
head ; " 'tis pity thou'rt a cavalier," and he took his part 
when in danger of expulsion for an insufficiently Protestant 
November 5th exercise. Soon after the exchange of his 
Sovereign's crown of sorrows for a better crown in front of 
Whitehall palace, Barrow was elected fellow of his College, 
" merely out of regard to his merits, for he had no friend to 
recommend him, being of the opposite party," but a few years 
later his churchmanship prevented his being chosen to the 
Greek Professorship. This disappointment led to his leaving 


7— (2433) 


England for a time, and after a visit to Paris to Charles IFs 
half-starved Court, in which his father (whose indigence he 
assisted out of his own lean purse) held some post, Barrow 
went on to Florence, to Smyrna — on the voyage serving a 
camion against an Algerine corsair — and to Constantinople, 
where he fell in love with the writings of St. Chrysostom. He 
stayed in Turkey above a year, and returned thence by way 
of Venice, Germany and the Low Countries, reaching England 
shortly before the break-up of the Protectorate. While the 
Church was still under a ban, however, Barrow desired Bishop 
Browning to ordain him deacon and priest. " A straight 
Ime," he said once, " is the shortest in morals as well as in 

Upon the King's restoration Barrow's friends expected 
immediate preferment for him, and his own epigram — 

"Te magis optavit rediturum, Carole, nemo; 
Et nemo sensit te rediisse minus" — 

shows that he felt disappointed. However, in that year, 
1660, he was chosen Professor of Greek at Cambridge, and in 
1662 Professor of Geometry in Gresham College, filling also 
the chair of the absent Astronomy Professor. The next year he 
was appointed the first Lucasian Professor of Mathematics at 
Cambridge, resigning the chair six years later to another Isaac, 
his pupil Newton. He was for a short time Cottonian Libra- 
rian. We are almost surprised that a Chair of Poetry was not 
also created for this universal genius, who wrote passable 
poems in Enghsh and Latin, and sometimes — as on the occasion 
of the King's marriage — in Greek. In 1672, however, Charles 
II made him Master of Trinity College, observing that he had 
appointed the best scholar in England. In 1675 he became 
Vice-chancellor of the University, and in that capacity preached 
on May 29th, 1674, the sermon which is printed below, the 
occasion being the sixteenth anniversary of the King's birthday 
and return. Eleven months later he died of a fever, in 
his forty-sixth year, and was buried in Westminster 

ISAAC BARROW (1630-1677) 99 

Abbey-church. " He closes," says Coleridge, " the first great 
period of the English language." To qualify himself for 
public speaking, the great Chatham was accustomed to get 
Barrow's sermons by heart, and the same is recorded of Daniel 

Barrow was a lifelong loyalist, but no great courtier. He 
could hold his own, however, with courtiers, and when 
Rochester, who considered him " a musty piece of divinity," 
ended some flippant banter with a low bow and " Doctor, I 
am your's to the lowest pit of hell," the divine laughed and 
replied, " There, my lord, I leave you," and turned on his 
heel. We have seen him fighting pirates ; he thrashed " a 
rhadamontade " at Constantinople ; and there is a tale of his 
grappling with a fierce mastiff which attacked him before 
daylight in the garden of a house where he was staying — for 
Barrow was another of the dilucular students. He downed 
the animal and had a mind to kill him, but reflected that a 
watch-dog was only doing his duty at that hour. As a preacher 
he was strong, forcible and prodigious, both as to quantity and 
quahty. One of his sermons on " Bountifulness to the Poor," 
preached at the Spital, is said to have occupied three hours 
and a half — if it was really all delivered. The one here given 
has been somewhat abridged. Charles H remarked that he 
was a very unfair preacher, for he left no one else anything to 
say. On one occasion the greedy Abbey vergers, who could 
not show visitors round during sermon-time, persuaded the 
organist to strike up in the middle of a treatise-discourse of 

Barrow's style of enunciation has none of the rich embroidery, 
the perfumed stateliness, of Taylor. But it is thus well 
described by the late Prebendary J. E. Kempe : — 

" Whatever he touches becomes as clear and definite to him 
as the mathematical problems he had worked out with Isaac 
Newton. Every sermon is to be the demonstration of a 
theorem. It seems to conclude with a quod erat prohandum 


and to develop into a problem, quod est faciendum. There is no 
escaping from this vigorous athlete, this master of the whole 
science of logical and rhetorical attack and defence. He 
pursues his antagonist into every corner of the ground, allows 
him with the utmost fairness to avail himself of all conceivable 
defences, and breaks them all down, one after the other, with 
irresistible and sometimes, it may be, only too numerous 
blows. He has no idea of giving quarter in intellectual war- 
fare. . . The result in the hands of a strong and laborious 
workman like Barrow is vastly impressive. When the quarry 
is exhausted, and all the stones are in their appointed places, 
we have a massive and solid edifice before us, complete from 
its foundations to its roof, and strongly compacted in every 

The sermon on the " King's Happy Return," however, is not 
a controversial one. It may possibly incline us to wonder 
whether the usual estimate of the Restoration monarchy is 
rightly focussed, when a mind so intellectual, so pious, and so 
honestly practical as Barrow's could conceive of it so favour- 
ably, not in the first ideahstic flush of the Restoration days, 
but sixteen years after. That Barrow was not bhnd to the 
evils of his age is shown by the closing passages of his sermon. 

Aubrey records in his Brief Lives : — " He was a strong man, 
but pale as the candle he studyed by ; a good poet, of great 
modestie and humanity, careles of his dresse. As he lay 
expiring in the agonie of death, the standers-by could heare 
him say softly, ' I have seen the glories of the world.' " 

The King's Happy Return 

I exhort therefore, that first of all supplications, prayers, intercessions, and 
giving of thanks be made for all men : for kings, and for all that are in 
authority. — 1 Timothy ii, 1. 2. 

St. Paul in his preceding discourse having insinuated 
directions to his scholar and spiritual son, Timothy, concerning 
the discharge of his office, of instructing men in their duty, 
according to the evangelical doctrine ; he doth here first 
of all exhort, or, doth exhort that first of all, all kinds of devotion 


should be offered to God, as for all men generally, so par- 
ticularly for kings and magistrates. From whence we may 
collect two particulars. 1. That the making of prayers for 
kings is a Christian duty of great importance (St. Paul judging 
fit to exhort thereto, irpSirov irdvTwv, before all other things ; 
or, to exhort that before all things it should be performed). 
2. That it is incumbent on the pastors of the church (such as 
St. Timothy was) to take special care that this duty should 
be performed in the church ; both publickly in the congrega- 
tions, and privately in the retirements of each Christian : 
according to what the Apostle, after the proposing divers 
enforcements of this duty, subsumeth in the 8th verse, / will 
therefore that men pray everywhere, liftiiig up holy hands, 
without wrath or doubting. 

The first of these particulars, that it is a duty of great 
importance to pray for kings, I shall insist upon : it being 
indeed now very fit and seasonable to urge the practice of it, 
when it is perhaps commonly not much considered, or not well 
observed ; and when there is most need of it, in regard to 
the effects and consequences which may proceed from the 
conscionable discharge of it. 

L The Apostle exhorteth Christians to pray for kings with 
all sorts of prayer ; with herjaef^, or deprecations, for averting 
evils from them ; with irpoaevxal, or petitions, for obtaining 
good things to them ; with ivrev^ei^f, or occasional intercessions, 
for needful gifts and graces to be collated on them: as, after 
St. Austin, interpreters, in expounding St. Paul's words, com- 
monly distinguish ; how accurately, I shall not discuss ; it 
sufficing that assuredly the Apostle meaneth, under this 
variety of expression, to comprehend all kinds of prayer. 
And to this I say we are obliged upon divers accounts. 

1. Common charity should dispose us to pray for kings. 
For if, because all men are our fellow-creatures and 
brethren by the same heavenly Father, because all men are 
allied to us by cognation and similitude of nature, because 
all men are the objects of God's particular favour and care ; 
if, because all men are partakers of the common redemption, 
by the undertakings of him who is the common Mediator and 
Saviour of all men, and because all men, according to the 
gracious intent and desire of God, are designed for a consort- 
ship in the same blessed inheritance (which enforcements St. 


Paul in the context doth intimate) ; if, in fine, because all men 
do need prayers, and are capable of benefit from them, we 
should be charitably disposed to pray for them : then must 
we also pray for kings, who, even in their personal capacity, 
as men, do share in all those conditions. 

Indeed, even on this account we may say, especially for 
kings ; the law of general charity with peculiar advantage 
being apphcable to them : for that law commonly is expressed 
with reference to our neighbour, that is, to persons with whom 
we have to do, who come under our particular notice, who by 
any intercourse are approximated to us ; and such are kings 
especially. For whereas the greatest part of men (by reason 
of their distance from us, from the obscurity of their condition, 
or for want of opportunity to converse with them) must needs 
slip beside us, so that we cannot employ any distinct thought 
or affection towards them : it is not so with kings, who by their 
eminent and illustrious station become very observable by us ; 
with whom we have frequent transactions, and mutual concerns ; 
who therefore in the strictest acceptation are our neighbours ; 
whom we are charged to love as ourselves ; to whom conse- 
quently we must perform this most charitable office of praying 
for them. 

2. To impress which consideration, we may reflect, that 
commonly we have only this way granted us of exercising 
our charity toward princes ; they being situated aloft 
above the reach of private beneficence : so that we cannot 
enrich them, or relieve them by our alms ; we cannot help to 
exalt or prefer them to a better state ; we can hardly come 
to impart good advice, seasonable consolation, or wholesome 
reproof to them ; we cannot profit or please them by familiar 
conversation. For, as in divers other respects they resemble 
the Divinity, so in this they are like it, that we may say to 
them, as the Psalmist to God, Thou art my Lord, my goodness 
extendeth [no{\ to thee. Yet this case may be reserved, wherein 
the poorest soul may benefit the greatest prince, imparting the 
richest and choicest goods to him : He may be indebted for 
his safety, for the prosperity of his affairs, for God's mercy 
and favour toward him, to the prayers of his meanest vassal. 
And thus to oblige princes, methinks, we should be very 
desirous ; we should be glad to use such an advantage, we 
should be ambitious of such an honour. 


3. We are bound to pray for kings out of charity to the 
publick ; because their good is a general good, and the com- 
munities of men (both Church and State) are greatly concerned 
in the blessings by prayer derived on them. 

The safety of a prince is a great part of the common welfare ; 
the commonwealth, as it were, living and breathing in him : 
his fall, hke that of a tall cedar (to which he is compared), 
shaking the earth, and discomposing the state, putting things 
out of course, and drawing them into new channels, trans- 
lating the administration of affairs into untried hands and an 
uncertain condition. Hence, Let the king live (which our 
translators render, God save the king) was an usual form of 
salutation or prayer : and king, live for ever was a customary 
address to princes, whereto the best men did conform, even 
in application to none of the best princes ; as Nehemiah to 
King Artazerxes, and Daniel to King Darius. Hence not only 
good King David is called the light of Israel ; [Thou shall not, 
said Ahishai, any more go out with us to battle, that thou quench 
not the light of Israel) ; but even the wicked and perverse King 
Zedekiah is by the Prophet Jeremiah himself (who had been so 
misused by him) styled the breath of our nostrils. [The breath, 
saith he, of our nostrils, the anointed of the Lord, was taken in 
their pits.) Hence not only the fall of good King Josiah was 
so grievously lamented, but a solemn mourning was due to that 
of Saul : and Ye daughters of Jerusalem, weep for Saul was a 
strain becoming the mouth of his great successor King David. 
Hence the primitive Christians, who could not be constrained 
to swear by the genius of Ccesar, did not yet, in compliance 
with the usual practice, scruple to swear by their health or 
safety ; that is, to express their wishing it, with appeal to God's 
testimony of their sincerity therein ; as Joseph may be conceived 
to have sworn by the life of Pharaoh. Hence well might the 
people teU King David, Thou art worth ten thousand of us : 
seeing the publick was so much interested in his safety, and had 
suffered more in the loss of him than if a myriad of others 
had miscarried. 

The honour likewise of a prince is the glory of his people, 
seeing it is founded on qualities or deeds tending to their 
advantage ; seeing it can hardly be supposed that he should 
acquire honour without their aid and concurrence, or that he 
should retain it without their support and their satisfaction. 


And as the chief grace and beauty of a body is in the head, 
and the fairest ornaments of the whole are placed there, so is 
any commonwealth most dignified and beautified by the 
reputation of its prince. 

The prosperity of a prince is inseparable from the prosperity 
of his people ; they ever partaking of his fortunes and thriving 
or suffering with him. For as, when the sun shineth brightly, 
there is a clear day and fair weather over the world, so when 
a prince is not overclouded with adversity, or disastrous 
occurrences, the publick state must be serene, and a pleasant 
state of things will appear. Then is the ship in a good condition 
when the pilot in open sea, with full sails and a brisk gale, 
cheerfully steereth on toward his designed port. 

Especially the piety and goodness of a prince is of vast 
consequence, and yieldeth infinite benefit to his country : for 
vita principis censura est, the life of a prince is a calling of 
other men's lives to an account. His example hath an un- 
speakable influence on the manners of his people, who are 
apt in all his garb, and every fashion, to imitate him. His 
practice is more powerful than his commands, and often doth 
control them. His authority hath the great stroke in encour- 
aging virtue and checking vice, if it bendeth that way : the 
dispensation of honours and rewards, the infliction of ignominies 
and corrections, being in his hand, and passing from it according 
to his inclinations. His power is the shield of innocence, 
the fence of right, the shelter of weakness and simplicity 
against violences and frauds. His very look (a smile or a 
frown of his countenance) is sufficient to advance goodness 
and suppress wickedness : according to that of Solomon, A 
king sitting in the throne of judgment scattereth away all evil 
with his eyes. His goodness, pleasing God, procureth his favour, 
and therewith deduceth from heaven all kinds of blessings on 
his people. And if those politick aphorisms of the Wise man 
be true, that righteousness exalteth a nation, and estahlisheth 
a throne ; that when it goeth well with the righteous, the city 
rejoiceth, and the same by the blessing of the upright is exalted ; 
then upon his inclinations to virtue the advancement and 
stability of publick welfare do mainly depend. So, for instance, 
how did piety flourish in the times of David, who loved, 
favoured and practised it, and what abundance of prosperity 
did attend it ! 


We may indeed observe, that, according to the representation 
of things in holy scripture, there is a kind of moral connexion, 
or a communication of merit and guilt, between prince and 
people ; so that mutually each of them is rewarded for the 
virtues, each is punished for the vices, of the other. As for the 
iniquities of a people God withdraweth from their prince the 
free communications of his grace and of his favour (suffering 
him to incur sin, or to fall into misfortune) : which was the case 
of that incomparably good King Josiah, and hath been the fate 
of divers excellent princes, whom God hath snatched away 
from people unworthy of them, or involved with such a people 
in common calamities ; according to the rule propounded in 
the law of God's dealing with the Israelites in the case of their 
disobedience, and according to that of Samuel, If ye shall do 
wickedly, ye shall he consumed, both ye and your king) : so 
reciprocally, for the misdemeanours of princes (or in them, 
and by them) God doth chastise their people. That 
princes are bad, that they incur great errors, or commit notable 
trespasses, is commonly imputable to the fault of subjects ; 
and is a just judgment by divine Providence laid on them, as 
for other provocations, so especially for their want of devotion, 
and neglecting duly to pray for them. For if they constantly 
with hearty sincerity and earnest fervency would in their 
behalf sue to God, who fashioneth all the hearts of men, who 
especially holdeth the hearts of kings in his hand, and turneth 
them whithersoever he will, we reasonably might presume that 
God by his grace would direct them into the right way, and 
incline their hearts to goodness ; that he would accomplish 
his own word in the Prophet, / will make thy officers peace, and 
thine exactors righteousness ; that we might have occasion to 
pay thanksgivings like that of Ezra, Blessed be the Lord God of 
our fathers, who hath put such things as this in the king's heart, 
to beautify the house of the Lord, which is in Jerusalem. 

We are apt to impute the ill management of things, and the 
bad success waiting on it, unto princes, being in appearance 
the immediate agents and instruments of it. But we commonly 
do therein mistake, not considering that ourselves are most 
guilty and blameable for it ; that it is an impious people 
which maketh an unhappy prince ; that their offences do 
pervert his counsels and blast his undertakings ; that their 
prophaneness and indevotion do incense God's displeasure and 


cause him to desert princes, withdrawing his gracious conduct 
from them, and permitting them to be misled by temptation, 
by ill advice, by their own infirmities, lusts and passions, into 
courses fit to punish a naughty people. So these were the 
causes of Moses his speaking unadvisedly with his lips, and that 
it went ill with him for their sakes : of Aaron's forming the molten 
calf ; of David's numbering the people ; of Josiah's unadvised 
enterprise against Pharaoh Neco ; of Zedekiah's rebellion 
against the Assyrians (notwithstanding the strong dissuasions 
of the Prophet Jeremiah). 

We are bound, and it is a very noble piece of charity, to love 
our country, sincerely to desire and earnestly to further its 
happiness, and therefore to pray for it ; according to the 
advice and practice of the Psalmist, pray for the peace of 
Jerusalem ; they shall prosper that love thee. Peace he within 
thy walls and prosperity within thy palaces. We are obliged, 
more especially upon the highest accounts, with dearest affec- 
tion to love the Church (our heavenly commonwealth, the society 
of our spiritual brethren), most ardently to tender its good 
and seek its advantages ; and therefore most urgently to sue 
for God's favour toward it : being ready to say after David, 
Do good, God, in thy good pleasure to Sion, build the walls of 
Jerusalem. Arise, Lord, and have mercy upon Sion, for the 
time to favour her, yea, the set time is come. Now these duties 
we cannot more easily, more compendiously, or more effec- 
tually discharge, than by earnestly praying for our prince ; 
seeing that, if we do by our prayers procure God's favour to 
him, we do certainly draw it on the State and the Church ; 
we cannot but partake of his good, we cannot but suffer with 
him. We cannot live quietly, if our prince is disturbed ; 
we cannot live happily, if he be mifortunate ; we can hardly 
live virtuously, if divine grace do not incline him to favour us 
therein, or at least restrain him from hindering us. This is St. 
Paul's own consideration : / exhort you, saith he, to make 

prayers for kings, that we may lead a quiet and peaceable 

life in all godliness and honesty. Upon such an account God 
did command the Jews to pray for the welfare of that heathen 
state under which they lived in captivity : And seek, said he, 
the peace of the city whither I have caused you to be carried away 
captives, and pray unto the Lord for it ; for in the peace thereof 
ye shall have peace. And for the like cause the Christians of 


old deemed themselves bound to pray for the Gentile magis- 
trates : according to that of Tertullian, We pray for you, 
because with you the empire is shaken; and, the other members 
of it being shaken, assuredly even we, how far soever we may he 
thought from troubles, are found in some place of the fall. 

4. Let us consider, that subjects are obliged in gratitude and 
ingenuity, yea, in equity and justice, to pray for their princes. 

They most are nearly related to us, and allied by the most 
sacred bands ; being constituted by God, in his own room, 
the parents and guardians of their country ; being also avowed 
and accepted for such by solemn vows and most holy sacra- 
ments of allegiance : whence unto them as such we owe an 
humble piety, a very respectful affection, a most dutiful 
observance ; the which we cannot better express or exercise 
than in our heartiest prayers for their welfare. 

They by God are destined to be the protectors of the Church, 
the patrons of religion, the fosterers and cherishers of truth, 
of virtue, of piety : for of the Church in the evangelical times 
it was prophesied. Kings shall he thy nursing fathers ; thou 
shall suck the breasts of kings ; kings shall rninister unto thee. 
Wherefore to them, not only as men and citizens, but pecu- 
liarly as Christians, we owe the highest duty ; and consequently 
we must pay the best devotion for them. 

To their industry and vigilance under God we owe the fair 
administration of justice, the protection of right and innocence, 
the preservation of order and peace, the encouragement of 
goodness and correction of wickedness : for they, as the 
Apostle telleth us, are God's ministers, attending continually 
on these very things. They indeed so attend as to deny them- 
selves, as to forgo much of their own ease, their pleasure, their 
satisfaction ; being frequently perplexed with cares, continu- 
ally enslaved to business, and subject to various inconveniences, 
rendering their life to considerate spectators very little desir- 
able. For he indeed must be a very bad governor, to whom 
that speech of the orator Tertullus may not without glozing be 
accommodated ; Seeing that by thee we enjoy great quietness, 
and that very worthy deeds are done unto this nation by thy 
providence, we accept it always, and in all places, most noble 
Felix, with all thankfulness. 


5. The praying for princes is a service peculiarly honourable, 
and very acceptable to God ; which he will interpret as a great 
respect done to himself ; for that thereby we honour his image 
and character in them, yielding in his presence this special 
respect to them as his representatives ; for that thereby we 
avow his government of the world by them as his ministers 
and deputies ; for that thereby we acknowledge all power 
derived from him, and depending on his pleasure ; we ascribe 
to him an authority paramount above all earthly potentates ; 
we imply our persuasion that he alone is absolute sovereign 
of the world, the King of Kings, and Lord of Lords ; so that 
princes are nothing otherwise than in subordination to him, 
can do nothing without his succour, do owe to him all their 
power, their safety, their prosperity and welfare ; for that, 
in fine, thereby, disclaiming all other confidences in any son 
of man, we signify our entire submission to God's will, and sole 
confidence in his providence. This service therefore is a very 
grateful kind of adoring our Almighty Lord ; and as such St. 
Paul recommendeth it in the words immediately subjoined to 
our text. For this (saith he) is good and acceptable in the sight 
of God, our Saviour. 

6. Let us consider that, whereas wisdom guiding our piety 
and charity will especially incline us to place our devotion 
there where it will be most needful and useful, we therefore 
chiefly must pray for Kings, because they do most need our 

Their ofiice is most high, and hard to discharge well or 
happily : wherefore they need extraordinary supplies of gifts 
and graces from the Divine bounty. 

They are most exposed to dangers and disasters (standing 
like high towers, most obnoxious to the winds and tempests 
of fortune) ; having usually many envious ill-\villers, many 
disaffected malcontents, many both open enemies and close 
insidiators ; from whose force or treachery no human provi- 
dence can sufficiently guard them. They do therefore need the 
protection of the ever- vigilant keeper of Israel, to secure them : 
for. Except the Lord keepeth the city, the watchman waketh hut 
in vain. Except the Lord preserve the King, his guards, his 
armies surround him to no purpose. 

They have the natural infirmities of other men, and far beyond 
other men are subject to external temptations. The malicious 


spirit (as in the case of Job, of David, of Achab, of Joshua the 
high priest is expressed) is ever waiting for occasion, ever 
craving permission of God to seduce and pervert them ; success 
therein being extremely conducible to his villainous designs. 
The world continually doth assault them with all its advantages ; 
with all its baits of pleasure, with all its enticements to pride 
and vanity, to oppression and injustice, to sloth, to luxury, 
to exorbitant self-will and self-conceit, to every sort of vitious 
practice. Their eminency of state, their affluence of wealth, 
their uncontroulable power, their exemption from common 
restraints, their continual distractions and incumbrances by 
varieties of care and business, their multitude of obsequious 
followers, and scarcity of faithful friends, to advise or reprove 
them, their having no obstacles before them to check their 
wiUs, to cross their humours, to curb their lusts and passions, 
are so many dangerous snares unto them. Wherefore they do 
need plentiful measures of grace and mighty assistances from 
God, to preserve them from the worst errors and sins ; into 
which otherwise 'tis almost a miracle if they are not plunged. 

And being they are so liable to sin, they must consequently 
stand often in need of God's mercy to bear with them, and to 
pardon them. They therefore, upon so many accounts 
needing special help and grace from heaven, do most need 
prayers to derive it thence for them. 

All princes indeed do need them. Good princes need many 
prayers for God's help, to uphold and confirm them in their 
virtue. Bad princes need deprecations of God's wrath and 
judgment toward them, for offending his Majesty ; together 
with supphcations for God's grace to convert and reform them. 
The most desperate and incorrigible need prayers that God 
would over-rule and restrain them from doing mischief to 
themselves and others. All princes, having many avocations 
and temptations, hindering them to pray enough for them- 
selves, do need supplemental aids from the devotions of 

You know in general the mighty efficacy of prayer, what 
pregnant assurances there are, and how wonderful instances 
thereof occur in holy scripture, both in relation to publick 
and private blessings : how it is often promised that all 
things, whatsoever we shall ask in prayer, believing, we shall 
receive ; and that whoever asketh receiveth, and he that seeketh 


findeth, and to him that knocketh it shall be opened ; how the 
prayer of Ahrahani did heal Ahimelech and his family of barren- 
ness ; how the prayers of Moses did quench the fire, and cure 
the bitings of the fiery serpent ; how the prayer of Joshua 
did arrest the sun ; how the prayer of Hannah did procure 
Samuel to her, as his name doth import ; how Elias his prayers 
did open and shut the heavens ; how the same holy prophet's 
prayer did reduce a departed soul, and that of Elisha did effect 
the same, and that of another prophet did restore Jeroboam's 
withered hand ; how the prayers of God's people frequently 
did raise them up saviours, and when they cried unto the Lord 
in their trouble, he delivered them out of their distresses ; how 
the prayers of Asa discomfited a million of Arabians, and those 
of Jehosaphat destroyed a numerous army of his enemies by 
their own hands, and those of Hezekiah brought down an angel 
from heaven to cut off the Assyrians, and those of Manasses 
restored him to his kingdom, and those of Esther saved her 
people from the brink of ruin, and those of Nehemiah inclined 
a pagan king's heart to favour his pious design for re-edifying 
Jerusalem, and those of Daniel obtained strange visions and 
discoveries ; how Noah, Job, Daniel, Moses and Samuel are 
represented as powerful intercessors with God ; and conse- 
quently it is intimated, that the great things atchieved by them 
were chiefly done by the force of their prayers. 

And seeing prayers in so many cases are so effectual and 
work such miracles, what may we hope from them in this, 
wherein God so expressly and particularly directeth us to use 
them, and how much shall the devotions of many good men, all 
levelled at one mark and aiming at a publick most considerable 
good, be prevalent with the Divine Goodness ? However, if 
God be not moved by prayers to convert a prince from all sin, 
to make him do all the good he might, to bless him in all 
matters, yet he may thence be induced to restrain him from 
much evil, to keep him from being worse, or from doing worse 
than otherwise would be ; he may dispose him to do many 
things well, or better than of himself he would do ; he may 
preserve him from many disasters otherwise incident to him : 
which will be considerable effects of prayer. 

7. I shall add but one general consideration more ; which 
is this, that prayer is the only allowable way of redressing our 
case if we do suffer by, or for, princes. 


Are they bad, or do they misdemean themselves in their 
administration of government and justice ? We may not by 
any violent or rough way attempt to reclaim them ; for they 
are not accountable to us or liable to our correction. Where 
the word of a king is, there is power : and who shall say to him, 
What doest thou ? was the Preacher's doctrine. 

Do they oppress us or abuse us ? Do they treat us harshly 
or cruelly persecute us ? We must not kick against them, 
or strive to right ourselves by resistance. For, Against a 
King (saith the Wise man) there is no rising up: and Who 
(said David) can stretch out his hand against the Lord's anointed, 
and he guiltless ? And, they (saith St. Paul) that resist shall 
receive to themselves damnation. 

We must not so much as ease our stomach, or discharge our 

passion, by railing or inveighing against them. For Thou 

shall not speak evil of the ruler of thy people is a Divine law ; and 

to blaspheme or revile dignities is by St. Peter and St. Jude 

• reprehended as a notable crime. 

We must not be bold or free in taxing their actions. For, 
Is it fit, saith Elihu, to say to a king. Thou art wicked, and to 
princes, Ye are ungodly ? And to reproach the footsteps of 
God's anointed is implied to be an impious practice. 

We must forbear even complaining and murmuring against 
them. For murmur ers are condemned as no mean sort of 
offenders ; and the Jews in the wilderness were sorely punished 
for such behaviour. We must not (according to the Preacher's 
advice) so much as curse them in our thoughts, or entertain ill 
conceits and ill wishes in our minds toward them. 

To do these things is not only high presumption in regard 
to them (inconsistent with the dutiful affection and respect 
which we owe to them), but it is flat impiety toward God, and 
an invasion of his authority ; who alone is King of kings, and 
hath reserved to himself the prerogative of judging, of rebuking, 
of punishing kings, when he findeth cause. 

These were the misdemeanours of those in the late times 
who, instead of praying for their Sovereign, did clamour and 
rail at him, did asperse him with foul imputations, did accuse 
his proceedings, did raise tumults and levy war against him, 
pretending by rude force to reduce him unto his duty ; so 
usurping on their prince, or rather on God himself, assuming 
his right and taking his work out of his hands ; discovering 


also therein great prophaneness of mind, and distrust of God's 
providence, as if God, being implored by prayer, could not, 
or would not, had it been needful, without such irregular 
courses, have redressed those evils in the Church or State which 
they pretended to feel, or fear. 

Nothing therefore in such cases is left to us for our remedy 
and ease but having recourse to God himself and seeking 
relief from his hand in good time, by converting our prince, 
or directing him into a good course ; however comforting 
ourselves in the conscience of submitting to God's will. 

This is the only method St. Paul did prescribe, even when 
Nero, a most vile, flagitious man, a sorry and naughty governor 
as could be, a monstruous tyrant and most bloody persecutor 
(the very in venter of persecution), did sway the empire. He 
did not advise Christians to stand upon their guard, to contrive 
plots, to provide arms, to raise mutinies and insurrections 
against him ; but to offer supplications, prayers and inter- 
cessions for him, as the best means of their security and com- 
fort. And this was the course of the primitive Christians 
during their hard condition under the domination of heathen 
princes, impugners of their religion : prayers and tears were 
then the only arms of the Church ; whereby they long defended 
it from ruin, and at last advanced it to most glorious prosperity. 

Indeed, if, not assuming the liberty to find fault with princes, 
we would practise the duty of seeking God for his blessing 
on their proceedings ; if, forbearing to scan and censure acts 
of state, we would earnestly implore God's direction of them ; 
if, leaving to conceive disgusts and vent complaints about the 
state of things, we would assiduously petition God for the 
settlement of them in good order ; if, instead of bein^ shrewd 
politicians or smart judges in such matters, we would be devout 
orators and humble solicitors at the throne of grace ; our 
endeavours surely would find much better effect toward 
publick advantage ; we certainly might do more good in our 
closets by a few hearty wishes uttered there than by all our 
tattling or jangling politicks in corners. 

There are great contrivances to settle things ; every one hath 
his model of state, or method of policy, to communicate for 
ordering the state ; each is zealous for his own conceit, and 
apt to be displeased with those who dissent from him. But it 
is, as the fairest and justest, so the surest and likeliest way 


of reducing things to a firm composure (without more ado, 
letting the world alone to move on its own hinges, and 
not impertinently troubling ourselves or others with the 
conduct of it) simply to request of Almighty God, the sovereign 
Governor and sole Disposer of things, that he would lead his 
own vicegerents in the management of the charge by himself 
committed to them. Be careful for nothing; but in every thing, 
by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests 
be made known to God, is a rule very applicable to this case. 

We may also alledge the practice of the Church, continually 
in all times performing this duty in its most sacred offices, 
especially in the celebration of the Holy Communion, 

St. Paul indeed, when he saith, / exhort first of all, that prayers 
be made, doth chiefly impose this duty on Timothy, or sup- 
poseth it incumbent on the pastors of the Church, to take 
special care, that prayers be made for this purpose, and offered 
up in the church jointly by aU Christians : and accordingly 
the antient Christians, as Tertullian doth assure us, did always 
pray for all the Emperors, that God would grant them a long life, 
a secure reign, a safe family, valiant armies, a faithful senate, a 
loyal people, a quiet world, and whatever they as men, or as 
emperors, could wish. This (addeth he) even for their perse- 
cutors, and in the very pangs of their sufferings, they did not 
fail to practise. Likewise of the Church in his time St. Chrys- 
ostome telleth us that all communicants did know how every 
day, both at evening and morning, they did make supplication 
for all the world, and for the Emperor, and for all that are in 
authority. And in the Greek liturgies (the composure whereof 
is fathered on St. Chrysostome) there are diverse prayers inter- 
spersed for the emperors, couched in terms very pregnant 
and respectful. 

If the offices of the Roman Church, and of the Churches 
truckling under it, in latter times, shall seem more defective 
or sparing in this point of service, the reason may be, for that 
a superlative regard to the solar or pontifical authority (as 
Pope Innocent III distinguished) did obscure their devotion 
for the lunar or regal majesty. But our Church hath been 
abundantly careful that we should in most ample manner 
discharge this duty ; having in each of her holy offices 
directed us to pray for our King in expressions most full, hearty 
and lively. 

8— (2433) 


She hath indeed been charged as somewhat lavish or over 
liberal of her devotions in this case. But it is a good fault, 
and we little need fear overdoing, in observance of a precept 
so very reasonable and so important, supposing that we have 
a due care to join our heart with the Church's words, and to the 
frequency of prayers for our prince do confer a suitable fervency. 
If we be not dead or merely formal, we can hardly be too 
copious in this kind of devotion ; reiteration of words can do 
no harm, being accompanied with renovation of our desires. 
Our text itself will bear us out in such a practice, the Apostle 
therein by variety of expression appearing solicitous that 
abundance of prayers for kings should be offered in the church, 
and no sort of them omitted. 

There are so many general inducements to this duty at all 
times ; and there are beside divers particular reasons inforcing 
it now in the present state and posture of things. 

Times of trouble, of danger, of fear, of darkness and per- 
plexity, of distraction and distress, of guilt and deserved 
wrath, are most seasonable for recourse to the Divine help and 
mercy in prayer. 

And are not ours such ? Are they not much like to those of 
which the Psalmist saith, They know not, neither will they under- 
stand ; they walk on in darkness : all the foundations of the earth 
are out of course ? Or like those of which our Lord spake, 
when there was upon the earth distress of nations, with perplexity ; 
men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things 
which were coming on the earth ? 

Are not the days gloomy, so that no human providence can 
see far, no wisdom can descry the issue of things ? 

Is it not a very unsettled world, wherein aU the publick 
frames are shaken almost off the hinges, and the minds of men 
extremely discomposed with various passions ; with fear, 
suspicion, anger, discontent and impatience ? How from 
dissentions in opinion do violent factions and feuds rage ; 
the hearts of men boiling with fierce animosities, and being 
exasperated against one another, beyond any hopes of visible 
means of reconcilement ! 

Are not the fences of disciphne cast down ? Is there any 
conscience made of violating laws ? Is not the dread of 
authority exceedingly abated, and all government overborne 
by unbridled licentiousness ? 


How many adversaries are there, bearing ill-will to our Sion ! 
How many turbulent, malicious, crafty spirits, eagerly bent, 
and watching for occasion, to subvert the Church, to disturb 
the State, to introduce confusion in all things ! How many 
Edomites, who say of Jerusalem (both ecclesiastical and civil), 
Down with it, down with it, even to the ground ! 

Have we not great reason to be fearful of God's just dis- 
pleasure, and that heavy judgments will be poured on us for 
our manifold hainous provocations and crying sins ; for the 
prodigious growth of atheism, infidelity and prophaneness ; 
for the rife practice of all impieties, iniquities and impurities 
with most impudent boldness, or rather with outragious 
insolence ; for the extreme dissoluteness in manners, the gross 
neglect or contempt of all duties, the great stupidity and cold- 
ness of people generally as to all concerns of religion ; for the 
want of religious awe toward God, of charity toward our neigh- 
bour, of respect to our superiors, of sobriety in our conversa- 
tion; for our ingratitude for many great mercies, our incor- 
rigibleness under many sore chastisements, our insensibleness 
of many plain warnings loudly calling us to repentance ? 

Is not all the world about us in combustion, cruel wars 
raging every where, and Christendom weltering in blood ? 
And although at present, by God's mercy, we are free, who 
knows that but soon, by God's justice, the neighbouring 
flames may catch our houses ? 

In fine, is not our case palpably such, that for any good 
composure or re-instatement of things in good order, for 
upholding truth and sound doctrine, for reducing charity and 
peace, for reviving the spirit of piety and bringing virtue again 
into request, for preserving State and Church from ruin, we can 
have no confidence or reasonable hope but in the good provi- 
dence and merciful succour of Almighty God ; beside whom 
there is no Saviour ; who alone is the hope of Israel, and saviour 
thereof in time of trouble ? We now having great cause to pray 
with our Lord's disciples in the storm. Lord, save us, we perish. 

Upon such considerations, and others whereof I suppose you 
are sufficiently apprehensive, we now especially are obliged 
earnestly to pray for our King, that God in mercy would preserve 
his royal person, and inspire his mind with fight, and endue his 
heart \vith grace, and in all things bless him to us, to be a 
repairer of our breaches, and a restorer of paths to dwell in ; so 


that under him we may lead a quiet life in all godliness and 

Blessed be God, who hath given to us so gracious and benign 
a Prince (the experiments of whose clemency and goodness 
no history can parallel) to sit on the throne of his blessed 
Father and renowned ancestors. 

Blessed be God, who hath protected him in so many en- 
counters, hath saved him from so many dangers and snares, 
hath delivered him from so great troubles. 

Blessed be God, who in so wonderful a manner, by such 
miraculous trains of providence, did reduce him to his countrey, 
and re-instate him in the possession of his rights ; thereby 
vindicating his own just providence, declaring his salvation, 
and openly shewing his righteousness in the sight of all people. 

Blessed be God who in him and with him did restore to us 
our antient good constitution of government, our laws and 
liberties, our peace and quiet ; rescuing us from lawless usur- 
pations and tyrannical yokes, from the insultings of error and 
iniquity, from horrible distractions and confusions. 

Ever blessed be God, who hath turned the captivity of Sion ; 
hath raised our Church from the dust, and re-established the 
sound doctrine, the decent order, the wholesome discipline 
thereof ; hath restored true religion with its supports, 
advantages and encouragements. 

Blessed be the Lord, who hath granted us to continue these 
sixteen years in the peaceable fruition of those blessings. 

Praised be God, who hath not cast out our prayer, nor turned 
his mercy from us. 

Praised be God, who hath turned our heaviness into joy, hath 
put o'ff our sackcloth, and girded us with gladness. 

Let our mouth speak the praise of the Lord ; and let all flesh 
bless his holy name for ever and ever. 

ROBERT SOUTH (1633-1716) 

Like Isaac Barrow, who was his senior by three years and 
whom he overhved by forty, Robert South was the son of a 
London merchant. No men could be of more different tempera- 
ments, the mathematician and philosopher standing for 
Cambridge at its best, the brilhant and belhcose ecclesiastic 
for Oxford, not altogether at its best. Indeed South's deserved 
fame has been chiefly blackened by the author, though they 
were on the same side in politics, of the AthencB Oxonienses ; 
but Anthony Wood, who had the fortune to write his enemies' 
lives, had a personal grudge against the Oxford Public Orator. 
He calls him an ambitious time-server. The story is well 
known how, while the scaffold before Whitehall waited on the 
fatal January morning in 1649, a senior Westminster boy said 
the Latin morning prayers, and prayed aloud for his Sovereign, 
awaiting martyrdom. We are not told what the grim old 
Busby said, but it is fitting that South's ashes should lie next 
his old preceptor's in the Abbey church. Yet, living into 
the Hanoverian age, South was no nonjuror, and his toryism 
had always been somewhat compliant : witness the congratu- 
latory Latin poem — to be sure, only a degree exercise — 
addressed to the Protector in 1654, or his Calvinian discourses 
at St. Mary's until that side went under in 1659, when his 
Oxford assize-sermon, assailing Independency, delighted the 
dominant Presbyterians. He had lately received episcopal 
ordination. When a Restoration appeared imminent, according 
to Wood's highly-coloured account. South began to attack the 
Presbyterians, and was regarded in the University as so little 
of a real loyahst that, after the King's return, he was nearly 
refused the doctorate for which the Chancellor, Clarendon, 
who had made South his chaplain, recommended him. 

It is unjust, however, to regard South as a mere opportunist. 



Though not a man of deep spirituality, he had sincere religious 
principles, and strong political convictions. He expressed 
them vehemently, passionately, rudely, but not hypocritically. 
Curll, who wrote a eulogistic memoir soon after South's death, 
says that he refused several offers of advancement to the 
episcopate. It is known also that he was disinterested in 
money matters. Of his great abiUties there can be no doubt — 
Milman speaks of him as " a terrible antagonist," ready to 
launch sharp and bitter arrows. And, in an age of oratory, his 
pure and nervous English, his imaginative but lucid and logical 
exposition, placed him in the front rank of preachers. 

The powerful sermon here given is a specimen of South's 
non-controversial manner. It contains the famous saying 
that Aristotle was but the rubbish of an Adam, and Athens 
but the rudiments of Paradise. The subject of fallen and 
unparadised hmnanity, the image of God upon it defaced, 
had been brought before men's minds by a movement of 
thought of which the Port-Royalist literature in France and 
Milton's Paradise Lost in England were symptoms. Pascal 
caUs man " un roi depossede." Shakespeare had penned that 
noble idealization of the logician's animal rationale : — " What 
a piece of work is man ! How noble in reason, how infinite in 
faculty, his doing and moving how express and admirable ! 
In action how like an angel ! In apprehension how like a 
god ! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals ! " 
"Homo est deaster quidam," wrote Bacon. "Man," said 
Sir Thomas Browne, " is a noble animal." Grotius and his 
school of jurists philosophized on the state of nature, the 
declension from which had made positive laws necessary. 
And South's contemporary. Bishop Bull, delivered a notable 
discourse on the Primitive State. The next century, under 
the tuition of Rousseau, that " apostle of nature in a wig," 
sentim.entalized in salons about our simple, happy, barbaric 
instincts, and, in Johnson's phrase, canted about the noble 
savage, running wild in his woods and not yet sophisticated 

ROBERT SOUTH (1633-1716) 119 

by laws and manners. Mankind, indeed, has always looked 
back wistfully to an idyllic age of gold, when men and beasts 
lived happily together, and this is the tradition of all poets 
and all religions, for God made man upright. Travellers have 
thought to find the unspoiled image of God in Hyperboreans 
or untutored Indians : " void of all guile and treason," Sir 
Phihp Sidney pronounced these to be, " living after the manner 
of the golden time " — imtil Ehzabethan pioneers of civilization 
carried off those who survived massacre as slaves. Truly we 
had our own vices to teach the barbarian. But " nasty, 
brutish and short " is Hobbes's description of the " state of 
nature," and Napoleon once said : — " I am disgusted with 
Rousseau since I have seen the Orient. Man in the wild state 
is a dog." 

The Jean Jacques conception of primitive humanity differs 
from the Christian doctrine of man's paradisal innocence and 
companionship of angels in that it ignores the doctrine, from 
which Christianity starts, of the Fall and the need of a New 
Birth. God's Son was made man by a virginal birth, not to 
develop our old nature, but to redeem it and reconstruct it 
from the foundations. Kant speaks of a " radical evil " in 
man, and the night side of humanity stands in appalling 
contradiction to our comfortable Pelagian ideas. The theory 
of evolution has now made a restatement of the doctrine of 
the Fall necessary, and the task remains as yet almost un- 
attempted. South's sermon does not deal directly with the 
spoiling of the Creator's work, but only depicts very finely 
the ideal of humanity as God designed it, giving to it those 
potentialities which were realized in the perfect Humanity 
of His Incarnate Son. 

The sermon stands second in the collected edition of South's 
discourses, and was preached at St. Paul's before the Corpora- 
tion of London on " Lord Mayor's Day," 1662. In the dedica- 
tion, speaking of the " raw endeavours of a young divine," 
he takes credit for not preaching a political sermon in that 


place, so lately made a stable for troopers' horses, and for 
having chosen a subject " inoffensive, harmless and innocent 
as the state of innocence itself," suitable, indeed, to a nation 
bent on recovery from guilt. He mentions that his manuscript 
had been stolen, since otherwise the thief may denounce him 
as a plagiary. What is here is a noble piece of English, 

Man Created in God's Image 

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him. — 
Genesis i, 27. 

How hard it is for natural reason to discover a creation 
before revealed, or being revealed to believe it, the strange 
opinions of the old philosophers, and the infidelity of modern 
atheists, is too sad a demonstration. To run the world back 
to its first original and infancy, and (as it were) to view nature 
in its cradle, to trace the outgoings of the Ancient of days in the 
first instance and specimen of his creative power, is a research 
too great for any mortal inquiry. And we might continue our 
scrutiny to the end of the world, before natural reason would 
be able to find out when it begun. 

Epicurus's discourse concerning the original of the world 
is so fabulous and ridiculously merry that we may well judge 
the design of his philosophy to have been pleasure, and not 

Aristotle held that it streamed by connatural result and 
emanation from God, the infinite and eternal mind, as the 
light issues from the sun ; so that there was no instant of 
duration assignable of God's eternal existence, in which the 
world did not also coexist. 

Others held a fortuitous concourse of atoms ; but all seem 
jointly to explode a creation ; still beating upon this ground, 
that to produce something out of nothing is impossible and 
incomprehensible. Incomprehensible indeed I grant, but not 
therefore impossible. There is not the least transaction of 
sense and motion in the whole man, but philosophers are at 
a loss to comprehend, I am sure they are to explain, it. Where- 
fore it is not always rational to measure the truth of an assertion 
by the standard of our apprehension. 

But to bring things even to the bare perceptions of reason, 
I appeal to any one, who shall impartially reflect upon the 


ideas and conceptions of his own mind, whether he doth not 
find it as easy and suitable to his natural notions to conceive 
that an infinite almighty Power might produce a thing out of 
nothing, and make that to exist de novo which did not exist 
before, as to conceive the world to have had no beginning, 
but to have existed from eternity : which, were it so proper 
for this place and exercise, I could easily demonstrate to be 
attended with no small train of absurdities. But then, besides 
that the acknowledging of a creation is safe, and the denial of 
it dangerous and irreligious, and yet no more (perhaps much 
less) demonstrable than the affirmative : so, over and above, 
it gives me this advantage, that, let it seem never so strange, 
uncouth and impossible, the nonplus of my reason will yield 
a fairer opportunity to my faith. 

In this chapter we have God surveying the works of the 
creation, and leaving this general impress or character upon 
them, that they were exceeding good. What an omnipotence 
wrought we have an omniscience to approve. But as it is 
reasonable to imagine that there is more of design, and conse- 
quently more of perfection, in the last work, we have God 
here giving his last stroke, and summing up all into man, the 
whole into a part, the universe into an individual : so that, 
whereas in other creatures we have but the trace of his foot- 
steps, in man we have the draught of his hand. In him were 
united all the scattered perfections of the creature ; all the 
graces and ornaments, all the airs and features, of being were 
abridged into this small, yet full, system of nature and divinity : 
as we might well imagine that the great artificer would be 
more than ordinarily exact in drawing his own picture. 

The work that I shall undertake from these words shall 
be to show what this image of God in man is, and wherein 
it doth consist. Which I shall do these two ways : 1. Nega- 
tively, by showing wherein it does not consist. 2. Positively, 
by showing wherein it does. 

For the first of these, we are to remove the erroneous opinion 
of the Socinians. They deny that the image of God consisted 
in any habitual perfections that adorned the soul of Adam, 
but as to his understanding bring him in void of all notion, 
a rude unwritten blank ; making him to be created as much 
an infant as others are bom ; sent into the world only to read 
and spell out a God in the works of creation, to learn by degrees, 


till at length his understanding grew up to the stature of his 
body. Also without any inherent habits of vertue in his will ; 
thus divesting him of all, and stripping him to his bare essence ; 
so that all the perfection they allowed his understanding was 
aptness and docility ; and all that they attributed to his will 
was a possibility to be vertuous. 

But wherein then, according to their opinion, did this image 
of God consist ? Why, in that power and dominion that 
God gave Adam over the creatures : in that he was vouched his 
immediate deputy upon earth, and viceroy of the creation, 
and lord-lieutenant of the world. But that this power and 
dominion is not adequately and formally the image of God, 
but only a part of it, is clear from hence ; because then he that 
had most of this would have most of God's image : and conse- 
quently Nimrod had more of it than Noah, Saul than Samuel, 
the persecutors than the martyrs, and Caesar than Christ 
himself, which to assert is a blasphemous paradox. And 
if the image of God is only grandeur, power and sovereignty, 
certainly we have been hitherto much mistaken in our duty, 
and hereafter are by all means to beware of making ourselves 
unlike God by too much self-denial and humility. I am not 
ignorant that some may distinguish between i^ovata and 
Svva/jbi<;, between a lawful authority and an actual power, and 
affirm that God's image consists only in the former ; which 
wicked princes, such as Saul and Nimrod, have not, though they 
possess the latter. But to this I answer, 

1. That the scripture neither makes nor owns such a dis- 
tinction, nor any where asserts that, when princes begin to 
be wicked, they cease of right to be govemours. Add to this, 
that, when God renewed this charter of man's sovereignty over 
the creatures to Noah and his family, we find no exception 
at all, but that Cham stood as fully invested with his right as 
any of his brethren. 

2. But secondly ; this savours of something ranker than 
Socinianism, even the tenets of the fifth monarchy, and of 
sovereignty founded only upon saintship ; and therefore fitter 
to be answered by the judge than by the divine, and to 
receive its confutation at the bar of justice than from the 

Having now made our way through this false opinion, we 
are in the next place to lay do"WTi positively what this image 


of God in man is. It is, in short, that universal rectitude of 
aU the faculties of the soul by which they stand apt and 
disposed to their respective offices and operations : which 
will be more fully set forth by taking a distinct survey of 
it, in the several faculties belonging to the soul. 

I. In the understanding. 

II. In the will. 

III. In the passions or affections. 

I. And first for its noblest faculty, the understanding : 
it was then sublime, clear and aspiring, and, as it were, the 
soul's upper region, lofty and serene, free from the vapours 
and disturbances of the inferior affections. It was the leading, 
controlhng faculty ; aU the passions wore the colours of 
reason ; it did not so much persuade, as command ; it was 
not consul, but dictator. Discourse was then almost as quick 
as intuition ; it was nimble in proposing, firm in concluding ; 
it could sooner determine than now it can dispute. Like the 
sun, it had both light and agihty ; it knew no rest but in 
motion ; no quiet but in activity. It did not so properly 
apprehend as irradiate the object ; not so much find as 
make things intelligible. It did arbitrate upon the several 
reports of sense and all the varieties of imagination ; not 
Uke a drowsy judge, only hearing, but also directing their 
verdict. In sum, it was vegete, quick and lively ; open as 
the day, untainted as the morning, full of the innocence and 
sprightliness of youth ; it gave the soul a bright and a full 
view into all things, and was not only a window, but itself 
the prospect. Briefly, there is as much difference between 
the clear representations of the understanding then, and the 
obscure discoveries that it makes now, as there is between 
the prospect of a casement and of a key-hole. 

Now as there are two great functions of the soul, contem- 
plation and practice, according to that general division of 
objects, some of which only entertain our speculation, others 
also employ our actions : so the understanding with relation 
to these, not because of any distinction in the faculty itself, 
is accordingly divided into speculative and practick ; in both 
of which the image of God was then apparent. 

Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of innocence to 
have these clear and unsuUied. He came into the world 
a philosopher, which sufficiently appeared by his ^vriting the 


nature of things upon their names ; he could view essences in 
themselves, and read forms without the comment of their 
respective properties ; he could see consequents yet dormant 
in their principles, and effects yet unborn, and in the womb 
of their causes ; his understanding could almost pierce into 
future contingents, his conjectures improving even to pro- 
phecy, or the certainties of prediction ; till his fall, he was 
ignorant of nothing but of sin ; or at least he rested in the 
notion, without the smart of the experiment. Could any 
difficulty have been proposed, the resolution would have been 
as early as the proposal ; it could not have had time to 
settle into doubt. Like a better Archimedes, the issue of 
all his inquiries was an evprjKa, the offspring of his brain 
without the sweat of his brow. Study was not then a duty, 
night-watchings were needless ; the light of reason wanted 
not the assistance of a candle. This is the doom of fallen 
man, to labour in the fire, to seek truth in profunda, to exhaust 
his time and impair his health, and perhaps to spin out his 
days, and himself, into one pitiful, controverted conclusion. 
There was then no poring, no struggling with memory, no 
straining for invention ; his faculties were quick and expedite ; 
they answered without knocking, they were ready upon the 
first summons, there were freedom and firmness in all their 
operations. I confess, it is difficult for us, who date our 
ignorance from our first being, and were still bred up with 
the same infirmities about us with which we were born, to 
raise our thoughts and imagination to those intellectual 
perfections that attended our nature in the time of innocence, 
as it is for a peasant, bred up in the obscurities of a cottage, 
to fancy in his mind the unseen splendours of a court. But 
by rating positives by their privatives, and other arts of 
reason, by which discourse supplies the want of the reports 
of sense, we may collect the excellency of the understanding 
then' by the glorious remainders of it now, and guess at the 
stateliness of the building by the magnificence of its ruins. 
All those arts, rarities and inventions which vulgar minds 
gaze at, the ingenious pursue, and all admire, are but the 
reliques of an intellect defaced with sin and time. We admire 
it now, only as antiquaries do a piece of old coin, for the 
stamp it once bore, and not for those vanishing lineaments 
and disappearing draughts that remain upon it at present. 


And certainly that must needs have been very glorious, the 
decays of which are so admirable. He that is comely, when 
old and decrepid, surely was very beautiful when he was 
young. An Aristotle was but the rubbish of an Adam, and 
Athens but the rudiments of Paradise. 

2. The image of God was no less resplendent in that which 
we call man's practical understanding ; namely, that store- 
house of the soul, in which are treasured up the rules of action 
and the seeds of morality. Where we must observe, that 
many who deny all connate notions in the speculative intellect 
do yet admit them in this. Now of this sort are these maxims ; 
that God is to be worshipped ; that parents are to be honoured ; 
that a man's word is to be kept, and the like : which, being 
of universal influence, as to the regulation of the behaviour 
and converse of mankind, are the ground of all vertue and 
civility, and the foundation of religion. 

It was the privilege of Adam innocent to have these notions 
also firm and untainted, to carry his monitor in his bosom, 
his law in his heart, and to have such a conscience as might 
be its own casuist : and certainly those actions must needs 
be regular where there is an identity between the rule and the 
faculty. His own mind taught him a due dependence upon 
God, and chalked out to him the just proportions and measures 
of behaviour to his fellow-creatures. He had no catechism 
but the creation, needed no study but reflexion, read no 
book but the volume of the world, and that too, not for rules 
to work by, but for objects to work upon. Reason was his 
tutor, and first principles his magna moralia. The decalogue 
of Moses was but a transcript, not an original. All the laws 
of nations and wise decrees of states, the statutes of Solon 
and the twelve tables, were but a paraphrase upon this standing 
rectitude of nature, this fruitful principle of justice, that was 
ready to run out and enlarge itself into suitable determina- 
tions, upon all emergent objects and occasions. Justice then 
was neither blind to discern, nor lame to execute. It was 
not subject to be imposed upon by a deluded fancy, nor yet 
to be bribed by a glozing appetite, for an utile or jucundum 
to turn the balance to a false and dishonest sentence. In 
all its directions of the inferior faculties, it conveyed its sug- 
gestions with clearness, and enjoined them with power ; it had 
the passions in perfect subjection ; and though its command 


over them was but suasive and political, yet it had the 
force of coaction, and despotical. It was not then, as it is 
now, where the conscience has only power to disapprove, and 
to protest against the exorbitances of the passions ; and 
rather to wish, than make, them otherwise. The voice of 
conscience now is low and weak, chastising the passions, as 
old Eli did his lustful, domineering sons ; Not so, my sons, 
not so ; but the voice of conscience then was not. This should, 
or This ought to, be done ; but, This must. This shall be done. 
It spoke hke a legislator ; the thing spoke was a law ; and the 
manner of speaking it a new obhgation. In short, there was 
as great a disparity between the practical dictates of the under- 
standing then and now as there is between empire and advice, 
counsel and command, between a companion and a governour. 

And thus much for the image of God, as it shone in man's 

II. Let us in the next place take a view of it, as it was 
stamped upon the will. It is much disputed by divines 
concerning the power of man's will to good and evil in the 
state of innocence ; and upon very nice and dangerous preci- 
pices stand their determinations on either side. Some hold 
that God invested him with a power to stand, so that in the 
strength of that power received he might, without the 
auxiliaries of any further influence, have determined his will 
to a full choice of good. Others hold that, notwithstanding 
this power, yet it was impossible for him to exert it in any 
good action without a superadded assistance of grace, actually 
determining that power to the certain production of such an 
act. So that, whereas some distinguish between sufficient and 
effectual grace, they order the matter so as to acknowledge 
none sufficient but what is indeed effectual, and actually 
productive of a good action. I shall not presume to interpose 
dogmatically in a controversy which I look never to see 
decided. But concerning the latter of these opinions, I shall 
only give these two remarks : — 

1. That it seems contrary to the common and natural 
conceptions of all mankind, who acknowledge themselves able 
and sufficient to do many things, which actually they never 

2. That to assert that God looked upon Adam's fall as 
a sin, and punished it as such, when, without any antecedent 


sin of his, he withdrew that actual grace from him upon the 
withdrawing of which it was impossible for him not to fall, 
seems a thing that highly reproaches the essential equity and 
goodness of the Divine nature. 

Wherefore, doubtless the wiU of man in the state of inno- 
cence had an entire freedom, a perfect equipendency and 
indifference to either part of the contradiction, to stand or 
not to stand, to accept or not accept the temptation. I will 
grant the wiU of man now to be as much a slave as any one 
will have it, and be only free to sin ; that is, instead of a 
liberty, to have only a licentiousness ; yet certainly this is 
not nature, but chance. We were not bom crooked ; we 
learnt these windings and turnings of the serpent : and there- 
fore it cannot but be a blasphemous piece of ingratitude to 
ascribe them to God, and to make the plague of our nature 
the condition of our creation. 

The wiU was then ductile, and pHant to all the motions of 
right reason ; it met the dictates of a clarified understanding 
half way. And the active informations of the intellect, filling 
the passive reception of the wiU, like form closing with matter, 
grew actuate into a third and distinct perfection of practice. 
The understanding and will never disagreed ; for the pro- 
posals of the one never thwarted the inclinations of the other. 
Yet neither did the wiU servilely attend upon the understanding, 
but as a favourite does upon his prince, where the service is 
privilege and preferment ; or as Solomon's servants waited 
upon him, it admired its wisdom, and heard its prudent dictates 
and counsels, both the direction and the reward of its obedi- 
ence. It is indeed the nature of this faculty to follow a 
superior guide, to be drawn by the intellect ; but then it was 
drawn as a triumphant chariot, which at the same time both 
follows and triumphs ; while it obeyed this, it commanded 
the other faculties. It was subordinate, not enslaved to the 
understanding : not as a servant to a master, but as a queen 
to her king, who both acknowledges a subjection, and yet 
retains a majesty. 

Pass we now downward from man's intellect and will, 

III. To the passions, which have their residence and situa- 
tion chiefly in the sensitive appetite. For we must know 
that, inasmuch as man is a compound, and mixture of flesh 
as well as spirit, the soul, during its abode in the body, does 


all things by the mediation of these passions and inferior 
affections. And here the opinion of the Stoicks was famous 
and singular, who looked upon all these as sinful defects and 
irregularities, as so many deviations from right reason, making 
passion to be only another word for perturbation. Sorrow, 
in their esteem, was a sin, scarce to be expiated by another ; 
to pity was a fault ; to rejoice, an extravagance ; and the 
Apostle's advice, to be angry and sin not, was a contradiction 
in their philosophy. But in this they were constantly out- 
voted by other sects of philosophers, neither for fame nor 
number less than themselves : so that all arguments brought 
against them from divinity would come in by way of overplus 
to their confutation. To us let this be sufficient, that our 
Saviour Christ, who took upon him all our natural infirmities, 
but none of our sinful, has been seen to weep, to be sorrowful, 
to pity, and to be angry : which shows that there might be 
gall in a dove, passion without sin, fire without smoke, and 
motion without disturbance. For it is not bare agitation, 
but the sediment at the bottom, that troubles and defiles the 
water : and when we see it windy and dusty, the wind does not 
(as we use to say) make, but only raise, the dust. 

Now, though the schools reduce all the passions to these 
two heads, the concupiscible and the irascible appetite, yet 
I shall not tie myself to an exact prosecution of them under 
this division ; but at this time, leaving both their terms and 
their method to themselves, consider only the principal and 
most noted passions, from whence we may take an estimate 
of the rest. 

And first, for the grand leading affection of all, which is 
love. This is the great instrument and engine of nature, 
the bond and cement of society, the spring and spirit of the 
universe. Love is such an affection as cannot so properly 
be said to be in the soul as the soul to be in that. It is the 
whole man wrapt up into one desire ; all the powers, vigour 
and faculties of the soul abridged into one inclination. And 
it is of that active, restless nature that it must of necessity 
exert itself ; and like the fire, to which it is so often compared, 
it is not a free agent, to choose whether it will heat or no, but 
it streams forth by natural results and unavoidable emana- 
tions. So that it will fasten upon any inferior, unsuitable 
object, rather than none at all. The soul may sooner leave off 


to subsist than to love ; and, like the vine, it withers and 
dies, if it has nothing to embrace. Now this affection in the 
state of innocence was happily pitched upon its right object ; 
it flamed up in direct fervours of devotion to God, and in col- 
lateral emissions of charity to its neighbour. It was not then 
only another and more cleanly name for lust. It had none 
of those impure heats that both represent and deserve hell. 
It was a vestal and a virgin fire, and differed as much from 
that which usually passes by this name nowadays as the vital 
heat from the burning of a fever. 

Then, for the contrary passion of hatred. This, we know, 
is the passion of defiance, and there is a kind of aversation 
and hostility included in its very essence and being. But 
then (if there could have been hatred in the world, when there 
was scarce any thing odious) it would have acted within the 
compass of its proper object. Like aloes, bitter indeed, but 
wholesome. There would have been no rancour, no hatred 
of our brother : an innocent nature could hate nothing that 
was innocent. In a word, so great is the commutation that 
the soul then hated only that which now only it loves, that 
is, sin. 

And if we may bring anger under this head, as being, 
according to some, a transient hatred, or at least very like it : 
this also, as unruly as now it is, yet then it vented itself by 
the measures of reason. There was no such thing as the 
transports of malice, or the violences of revenge : no rendering 
evil for evil, when evil was truly a nonentity, and no where 
to be found. Anger then was like the sword of justice, keen, 
but innocent and righteous : it did not act like fury, and 
then call itself zeal. It always espoused God's honour, and 
never kindled upon any thing but in order to a sacrifice. It 
sparkled like the coal upon the altar, with the fervours of 
piety, the heats of devotion, the saUies and vibrations of an 
harmless activity. In the next place, for the lightsome pas- 
sion of joy. It was not that which now often usurps this 
name — that trivial, vanishing, superficial thing, that only 
gilds the apprehension, and plays upon the surface of the 
soul. It was not the mere crackling of thorns, a sudden blaze 
of the spirits, the exultation of a tickled fancy or a pleased 
appetite. Joy was then a mascuhne and a severe thing, 
the recreation of the judgment, the jubilee of reason. It was 

9— (2433) 


the result of a real good, suitably applied. It commenced 
upon the solidities of truth and the substance of fruition. It 
did not run out in voice, or undecent eruptions, but filled the 
soul, as God does the universe, silently and without noise. 
It was refreshing, but composed ; like the pleasantness of 
youth tempered with the gravity of age ; or the mirth of a 
festival managed with the silence of contemplation. 

And, on the other side, for sorrow. Had any loss or dis- 
aster made but room for grief, it would have moved according 
to the severe allowances of prudence, and the proportions of 
the provocation. It would not have saUied out into complaint 
or loudness, nor spread itself upon the face, and writ sad stories 
upon the forehead. No wringing of the hands, knocking the 
breast, or wishing one's self unborn ; aU which are but the 
ceremonies of sorrow, the pomp and ostentation of an effemi- 
nate grief : which speak not so much the greatness of the 
misery as the smallness of the mind. Tears may spoil the 
eyes, but not wash away the affliction. Sighs may exhaust 
the man, but not eject the burden. Sorrow then would 
have been as silent as thoughts, as severe as philosophy. It 
would have rested in inward senses, tacit dislikes, and the 
whole scene of it been transacted in sad and silent reflexions. 

Then again for hope. Though indeed the fulness and 
affluence of man's enjoyments in the state of innocence might 
seem to leave no place for hope, in respect of any further 
addition, but only of the prorogation and future continuance 
of what already he possessed : yet, doubtless, God, who made 
no faculty but also provided it with a proper object, upon 
which it might exercise and lay out itself, even in its greatest 
innocence, did then exercise man's hopes with the expectations 
of a better paradise, or a more intimate admission to himself. 
For it is not imaginable that Adam could fix upon such poor, 
thin enjoyments as riches, pleasure, and the gaieties of an 
animal life. Hope indeed was always the anchor of the soul, 
yet certainly it was not to catch or fasten upon such mud. 
And if, as the Apostle says, no man hopes for that which he sees, 
much less could Adam then hope for such things as he saw 

And lastly, for the affection of fear. It was then the instru- 
ment of caution, not of anxiety ; a guard, and not a torment 
to the breast that had it. It is now indeed an unhappiness. 


the disease of the soul ; it flies from a shadow, and makes 
more dangers than it avoids ; it weakens the judgment, and 
betrays the succours of reason : so hard is it to tremble and 
not to err, and to hit the mark with a shaking hand. Then 
it fixed upon him who is only to be feared, God : and yet with 
a fihal fear, which at the same time both fears and loves. It 
was awe without amazement, dread without distraction. 
There was then a beauty even in this very paleness. It was 
the colour of devotion, giving a lustre to reverence and a gloss 
to humihty. 

Thus did the passions then act without any of their present 
jars, combats or repugnances ; aU moving with the beauty 
of uniformity, and the stiUness of composure. Like a well- 
governed army, not for fighting, but for rank and order. I 
confess the scriptures do not expressly attribute these 
several endowments to Adam in his first estate. But all that 
I have said, and much more, may be drawTi out of that short 
aphorism, God made man upright, Eccl. vii, 29. And since 
the opposite weaknesses now infest the nature of man fallen, 
if we wiU be true to the rule of contraries, we must conclude 
that those perfections were the lot of man innocent. 

Now from this so exact and regular composure of the facul- 
ties, aU moving in their due place, each striking in its proper 
time, there arose, by natural consequence, the crowning per- 
fection of aU, a good conscience. For, as in the body, when 
the principal parts, as the heart and liver, do their ofhces, 
and all the inferior, smaller vessels act orderly and duly, there 
arises a sweet enjo3mient upon the whole, which we call health : 
so in the soul, when the supreme faculties of the wiU and under- 
standing move regularly, the inferior passions and affections 
following, there arises a serenity and complacency upon the 
whole soul, infinitely be^'^ond the greatest bodily pleasures, 
the highest quintessence and elixir of worldly delights. There 
is in this case a kind of fragrancy, and spiritual perfume upon 
the conscience ; much like what Isaac spoke of his son's 
garments ; that the scent of them was like the smell of a field 
which the Lord had blessed. Such a freshness and flavour is 
there upon the soul, when daily watered with the actions of a 
vertuous hfe. \\'hatsoever is pure is also pleasant. 

Having thus surveyed the image of God in the soul of man, 
we are not to omit now those characters of majesty that 


God imprinted upon the body. He drew some traces of his 
image upon this also ; as much as a spiritual substance could 
be pictured upon a corporeal. As for the sect of the Anthro- 
pomorphites, who from hence ascribe to God the figure of a 
man, eyes, hands, feet, and the like, they are too ridiculous 
to deserve a confutation. They would seem to draw this 
impiety from the letter of the scripture sometimes speaking of 
God in this manner. Absurdly ; as if the mercy of scripture 
expressions ought to warrant the blasphemy of our opinions, 
and not rather show us that God condescends to us, only to 
draw us to himself, and clothes himself in our likeness, only 
to win us to his own. But to the purpose : Adam was then 
no less glorious in his externals ; he had a beautiful body, 
as well as an immortal soul. The whole compound was 
like a well built temple, stately without, and sacred within. 
The elements were at perfect union and agreement in his 
body ; and their contrary qualities served not for the dissolu- 
tion of the compound, but the variety of the composure. 
Galen, who had no more divinity than what his physick taught 
him, barely upon the consideration of this so exact frame of 
the body, challenges any one, upon an hundred years study, 
to find how any the least fibre, or most minute particle, might 
be more commodiously placed, either for the advantage of 
use or comeliness. His stature erect, and tending upwards 
to his centre ; his countenance majestick and comely, with the 
lustre of a native beauty that scorned the poor assistance of 
art, or the attempts of imitation ; his body of so much quick- 
ness and agility, that it did not only contain, but also represent, 
the soul : for we might well suppose that, where God did 
deposit so rich a jewel, he would suitably adorn the case. It 
was a fit workhouse for sprightly vivid faculties to exercise 
and exert themselves in. A fit tabernacle for an immortal 
soul, not only to dwell in, but to contemplate upon : where 
it might see the world without travel ; it being a lesser scheme 
of the creation, nature contracted, a httle cosmography, or 
map of the universe. Neither was the body then subject to 
distempers, to die by piecemeal, and languish under coughs, 
catarrhs or consumptions. Adam knew no disease, so long 
as temperance from the forbidden fruit secured him. Nature 
was his physician ; and innocence and abstinence would have 
kept him healthful to immortality. 


Now the use of this point might be various, but at present 
it shall be only this ; to remind us of the irreparable loss that 
we sustained in our first parents, to show us of how fair a 
portion Adam disinherited his whole posterity by one single 
prevarication. Take the picture of a man in the greenness 
and vivacity of his youth, and in the latter date and declen- 
sions of his drooping years, and you will scarce know it to 
belong to the same person : there would be more art to discern 
than at first to draw it. The same and greater is the difference 
between man innocent and fallen. He is, as it were, a new 
kind or species ; the plague of sin has even altered his nature, 
and eaten into his very essentials. The image of God is wiped 
out, the creatures have shook off his yoke, renounced his 
sovereignty, and revolted from his dominion. Distempers 
and diseases have shattered the excellent frame of his body ; 
and, by a new dispensation, immortality is swallowed up of 
mortality. The same disaster and decay also has invaded his 
spirituals : the passions rebel, every faculty would usurp and 
rule ; and there are so many governours that there can be no 
government. The light within us is become darkness ; and 
the understanding, that should be eyes to the blind faculty 
of the wiU, is blind itself, and so brings all the inconveniences 
that attend a blind follower under the conduct of a blind guide. 
He that would have a clear, ocular demonstration of this, let 
him reflect upon that numerous litter of strange, senseless, 
absurd opinions, that crawl about the world, to the disgrace 
of reason, and the unanswerable reproach of a broken intellect. 
The two great perfections, that both adorn and exercise 
man's understanding, are philosophy and religion. For the 
first of these ; take it even amongst the professors of it, where 
it most flourished, and we shall find the very first notions of 
common sense debauched by them. For there have been 
such as have asserted, that there is no such thing in the world 
as motion ; the contradictions may be true. There has not 
been wanting one that has denied snow to be white. Such a 
stupidity or wantonness had seized upon the most raised wits 
that it might be doubted whether the philosophers or the 
owls of Athens were the quicker sighted. But then for rehgion ; 
what prodigious, monstrous, misshapen births has the reason 
of fallen man produced ! It is now almost six thousand years 
that far the greatest part of the world has had no other religion 


but idolatry : and idolatry certainly is the first-born of folly, 
the great and leading paradox ; nay, the very abridgment and 
sum total of all absurdities. For is it not strange that a 
rational man should worship an ox, nay, the image of an ox ? 
that he should fawn upon his dog ? bow himself before a cat ? 
adore leeks and garlic, and shed penitential tears at the smell 
of a deified onion ? Yet so did the Egyptians, once the famed 
masters of all arts and learning. And to go a little further ; 
we have yet a stranger instance in Isa. xliv, 14. A man hews 
him down a tree in the wood, and part of it he hums, in ver. 16, 
and in ver. 17 with the residue thereof he maketh a god. With 
one part he furnishes his chimney, with the other his chapel. 
A strange thing, that the fire must consume this part, and then 
burn incense to that. As if there was more divinity in one end 
of the stick than in the other ; or as if it could be graved and 
painted omnipotent, or the nails and the hammer could give 
it an apotheosis. Briefly, so great is the change, so deplorable 
the degradation, of our nature, that, whereas before we bore 
the image of God, we now retain only the image of men. 

In the last place, we learn from hence the excellency of 
Christian religion, in that it is the great and only means that 
God has sanctified and designed to repair the breaches of 
humanity, to set fallen man upon his legs again, to clarify his 
reason, to rectify his will, and to compose and regulate his 
affections. The whole business of our redemption is, in short, 
only to rub over the defaced copy of the creation, to reprint 
God's image upon the soul, and (as it were) to set forth nature 
in a second and a fairer edition. 

The recovery of which lost image, as it is God's pleasure to 
command, and our duty to endeavour, so it is in his power 
only to effect. 

To whom he rendered and ascribed, as is most due, all praise, 
might, majesty and dominion, hoth now and for evermore. 


There have been many noble-spirited " political parsons " — 
Savonarola was one in mediaeval Florence — and there have 
been more base specimens ; for politics, which should be an 
endeavour at realizing one side of Christ's Kingdom, are in 
fact a muddy arena. Sacheverell was neither upraised nor base, 
but a somewhat vulgar-minded pulpiteer, who won the huzzas 
of the mob by appealing to their passions, and, with a good 
cause behind him, spoiled it by his violent invective. The 
subjoined sermon, if the hysterical italics of the original 
edition had been retained, would be almost unreadable. Never- 
theless it is one of the most notable sermons in English history, 
for it turned the Whigs out of office and brought their opponents 

Henry Sacheverell was the dear friend of Addison, whose 
chamber-fellow he had been at Magdalen, where a fine portrait 
of him hangs, and was a sufficiently good scholar. In 1705, 
about ten years after ordination, he was appointed Preacher at 
St. Saviour's, Southwark, and while holding that post delivered 
the two passionate sermons which set England on fire. One 
was preached on Aug. 14, 1709, at the Derby Assizes, entitled 
" The Communication of Sin," the other on Powder-Plot day 
in that year before the Corporation of London, entitled " In 
Perils among False Brethren." It was the latter which excited 
most anger in the Whig and Low-church party, then in office, 
and on Dec. 13, soon after the printing of the two sermons, 
Sacheverell and his printer were ordered to attend at the bar 
of the Commons, and his impeachment was resolved on, the 
Sergeant-at-Arms taking him into custody. The historic trial 
before the House of Lords began on the following Feb. 27, 
in Westminster Hall, the Doctor, who had been granted bail, 
being escorted to and from his lodgings by a vast crowd, 



shouting " God bless the Queen ! God preserve the Church 
of England and Dr. Sacheverell ! " Passing coaches and 
chairs were stopped to make the people in them pull off their 
hats and cry, " God bless him." Even the Queen's carriage 
was surrounded by a mob crying, " We hope your Majesty 
is for High Church and Dr. Sacheverell." The trial lasted till 
March 23, when by sixty-nine contents to forty-two non-con- 
tents the Lords condemned Sacheverell not to preach for three 
years ensuing, and the two sermons to be burnt before the 
Royal Exchange by the common hangman. The sentence was, 
of course, an immense triumph for him ; honours and con- 
gratulations poured in upon him, and the Queen presented him 
to a valuable hving. She took courage to dismiss the Ministry, 
dissolved Parliament, and obtained an overwhelming Tory 
majority in the new House. 

Atterbury, who next year was elected Prolocutor over his 
Whig rival Kennet, had spoken eloquently for Sacheverell at 
the trial, and when, years afterwards, he was himself an exile 
received a grateful legacy from him. But there was no per- 
sonal friendship between them, and the finer minds among 
the Tories did not care much for their champion and his 
admiring mob. To the non-jurors and Jacobites like Hearne 
he seemed a mere trimmer. Being impeached by the Com- 
mons for " reflecting on the glory of our late Royal Deliverer," 
aspersing the " Happy Revolution " and undermining the 
Protestant Succession and the Queen's title to the throne, 
Sacheverell had indignantly denied the charges, only justifying 
his non-resistance teachings, the immediate application of 
which was that the usurping House of Hanover was to remain 
unmolested on the throne. 

The truth is that both Sacheverell and his impeachers were 
in a hopelessly illogical and embarrassing position. The 
doctrine of passive obedience to rulers was both of immediate 
advantage to the Whigs and also had historically been the 
Protestant standpoint against the claims of the Papacy. 

HENRY SACHEVERELL (1672-1724) 137 

Harcourt and Phipps, Sacheverell's counsel, had no difficulty 
in bringing forward an impressive array of authorities which 
every Whig must defer to, to support the Doctor's pulpit 
assertions. Nor was it easy to praise the Revolution of 1688 
on general principles \vithout seeming to apologize for the 
Great Rebellion, a thing which was not done outside calves'- 
head clubs and republican coteries. The Commonwealth 
was called by Burnet a " blackest usurpation," and, speaking 
for Sacheverell's condemnation, he spoke of the " barbarous 
effusion of the royal blood of that Blessed King," whom 
another Whig prelate on the same occasion spoke of as " that 
pious Prince and now glorious Saint in heaven." It was 
easy, therefore, for Sacheverell to put his opponents in a very 
awkward position. On the other hand, the high-flying Doctor 
did not fly high enough for consistency The " principles of 
the Glorious Revolution " — which Queen Victoria never 
could persuade Lord John Russell to leave out of his speeches 
and letters to her — were not Tory principles. And though 
Anne might be glorified — as by Atterbury — under the name 
of " the inheritress of the blessed Martyr's crown and piety," 
whose right it was sacrilege to question, a German boor, who 
could not speak a word of EngUsh and very much dishked the 
Church of England, was, under the Act of Settlement, her 
undoubted heir. 

Blatant as Sacheverell was, his apprehensions of the conse- 
quences to religion of a permanent Whig and Latitudinarian 
ascendency were both sincere and well founded. In that 
same year, 1709, the pious and grave Beveridge declared that 
" the doctrine and discipline of our Church is exploded, and 
our holy religion become a name which is everywhere spoken 
against."^ Archbishop Wake, who spoke strongly against 
Sacheverell and opposed the Schism Bill of 1714 in the Lords, 
said solemnly after the accession of the House of Hanover : — 
" Some of our Bishops are labouring to pull down the Church 

* Private Thoughts. Preface. 


in which they minister, and to introduce such Hcentiousness 
as would overflow the grace of the Holy Spirit, the Divinity 
of Christ, and all fundamental articles of rehgion." It was his 
clear prevision of what the Hanoverian regime must mean 
for a Church claiming a Catholic and Apostolic character 
which explains the development of Atterbury himself from an 
exponent of the principles of 1688 into the arch-conspirator 
of exiled Jacobitism. In 1705 the Upper and Lower Houses 
of Parhament rejected a proposed resolution that " the Church 
is in danger," and a royal proclamation declared that the 
Church was in " a most safe and flourishing condition." 

In the subjoined sermon, " crafty insidiousness of modern 
Volpones " is an allusion, of course, to Godolphin, who inspired 
the foolish impeachment. It was impossible to punish 
Sacheverell on the grounds of his general argument. As Dr. 
Beeching epigrammatically puts it, " SachevereU's crime was 
really that he had had the bad taste to preach on the 5th 
of November a doctrine which the House of Commons was 
accustomed to listen to only on the 30th of January." 

Perils among False Brethren 

In peril among false brethren. — 2 Corinthians xi, 26. 

Among all the most dreadful plots that ever threatened 
this Church and Kingdom, the dismal tragedy contriv'd as 
this day to be executed on both may justly claim the horrible 
precedence, and consequently the highest expressions of our 
gratitude for so astonishing and miraculous a deliverance 
from it. Doubtless 'tis as much our duty as interest to keep 
up the annual celebration of this never-to-be-forgotten festival. 
For that the very face and shadow of our Church and Con- 
stitution is yet surviving ; that this good and pious relick 
of the Royal Family sits now happily upon the throne of 
her great ancestors ; that our hierarchy and nobility was 
not finally extirpated and cut off ; that our country was not 
made an Aceldama, a Field of Blood, and a receptacle of 
usurping robbers ; that we yet, without slavery, superstition 
or idolatry, enj oy the benefit of our excellent Laws, and most 


holy profession undefil'd ; in a word, that God has yet vouch- 
saf d us this opportunity of coming into his presence, to ac- 
knowledge these inestimable blessings ; is owing to his mercy 
so signally shewn to us, in disappointing the barbarous massacre 
intended this day. A day ! which ought to stand for ever in 
the English Kalendar, as an eternal aera at the one end, as the 
thirtieth of January at the other, for indehble monuments 
of the irreconcileable rage and bloodthirstiness of both the 
Popish and fanatick enemies of our Church and Government ! 
For these are equally such treacherous False Brethren, and 
from whom we must always expect the utmost perils, and 
against whom we can never sufficiently arm ourselves. 

Now as persecution and affliction were the distinguishing 
badges of the Messiah, so was His Church to expect no better 
treatment than her great Founder and Original, to pass through 
the same fiery trial, to be made perfect through sufferings. 
Not only to encounter the open fury and violence of her pro- 
fess'd and inveterate enemies, but (which was the bitterest 
part of her sufferings) hke her Saviour, to be betray'd, and 
perfidiously given up by her own false-hearted and insidious 

As the histories of the Church in all ages are, as 'twere, but 
one continued ratification of this melancholy truth, made up 
of so many mournful narratives of the unhappy lives and 
disastrous deaths of Saints, Martyrs and Confessors, who 
bravely seal'd the Faith with their Blood ; so it is exemplify'd 
in no one instance more than in that primitive and heroick 
champion of Christianity, the authour of this Epistle. Wherein, 
for the wonder and emulation of posterity, he has recorded a 
long and frightful catalogue of those astonishing calamities 
he had underwent in the propagation of the Gospel. In this 
rhetorical abridgement of the sufferings and dangers of his 
fife, there's a very observable gradation ; the Apostle stiU 
rises in his calamities, and puts this last as the highest per- 
fection of his misery, as that which made the deepest impres- 
sion upon his passions, and what he bore with the greatest 
resentment and difficulty. The many severe pains and tortures 
inflicted on his body were nothing to this ; nay, the good-nature 
and mercy of highway-men, and pagans, and even the de- 
vouring bosom of the deep, were to be preferr'd before, and 
sooner (it seems) t© be trusted to, than the more certainly 


destructive and fallacious bosom of a treacherous False 

I. Men may in three respects be termed guilty of False 

1. First, with relation to God, the Church, or Religion, in 
which they hold not faith or communion. 

2. Secondly, with relation to the State, Government or 
Society of which they are members. 

3. Thirdly, with relation to those private persons, with whom 
they have either friendship, correspondence or dealing. 

1. And first, he is a False Brother, with relation to God, 
religion, or the Church in which he holds communion, that 
believes, maintains or propagates any false or heterodox 
tenet or doctrine, repugnant to the express declarations of 
Scripture, and the decrees, or sense, of the Church and anti- 
quity thereupon. If a man should dare not only to revive, 
[? but] to justifie any execrable, exploded heresies, as those 
of Arrius and Nestorius, or expound any of the articles of 
our Faith in such a loose and vagrant way as may suit 'em 
as well to a Mahometan's as a Christian's creed, and to lay 
open all those sacred boundaries of the Church to let in all 
sectarists and schismaticks, of whatsoever wild, romantick or 
enthusiastick notions, so as to make the House of God, not only 
a den of thieves, but a receptacle of legions of Devils : Should 
we cover such a false Apostle under the sacred umbrage of a 
true church-man ? In short, whosoever presumes to recede 
the least tittle from the express word of God, or to explain the 
great credenda of our Faith in new-fangl'd terms of modern 
philosophy, is false both to his God and his religion, and shall 
be called hereafter the least in the Kingdom of Heaven, 
how great soever he may be in the kingdoms here below. 
And as a man may thus betray the doctrine of his Church, 
so is he no less false to its interest, that gives up any point 
of her discipline and worship. These are the exterior fences 
to guard the internals of religion, without which they are 
left naked, without beauty, order or defence. Should any 
man, out of ignorance, or prejudice to the ancient rights, 
and essential constitution, of the Cathohck Church, affirm, 
that the divine apostolical institution of episcopacy is a novel 
doctrine, not sufficiently warranted by Scripture, and that 'tis 


indifferent whether the Church is governed by Bishops or 
Presbyters, is not such an apostate from his own Orders ? 
Let the Christian world be judge, who best deserve the name 
of church-men, those that strictly defend and maintain the 
Catholick doctrines, upon which the Church, as a society, is 
founded, or those who would barter them for a mungril-union 
of all sects ? Those who zealously support her mission, which 
only can support her, or those who would destroy it, to take 
in schismatical presbyters without episcopal ordination, which 
would unchurch the very Church, and annihilate her constitu- 
tion ? Is this the spirit and doctrine of our Holy Mother, 
to assert separation from her communion to be no schism ; or 
if it was, that schism is no damnable sin ; that occasional 
conformity is no hypocrisy, but rather for the benefit of the 
Church ; that any one may be an occasional conformist with 
schismaticks, and yet not guilty of schism ; that a Christian 
may serve God in any way or congregation of worship, as weU 
by extemporary prayers as by a prescrib'd form and Liturgy ; 
that conformity to the Church and ecclesiastical authority 
are no parts of morality and a good life, which are only neces- 
sary to Salvation ; that the orders and ceremonies of the Church 
are only carnal, arbitrary ordinances, to be dispens'd with as 
men please, both by clergy and laity ; that the censures and 
excommunications of the Church are mere hruta fulmina ; 
canonical obedience and absolution spiritual tyranny and 
usurpation ; and in a word, that the whole body of the worship 
and discipline of the Church of England, is nothing else but 
priestcraft and popery in masquerade ? If upon aU occasions 
to comply with the dissenters, both in publick and private 
affairs, as persons of tender conscience and piety, to promote 
their interests in elections, to sneak to 'em for places and pre- 
ferment, to defend toleration and liberty of conscience, and, 
under the pretence of moderation, to excuse their separation, 
and lay the fault upon the true sons of the Church for carrying 
matters too high ; if to court the fanaticks in private, and to 
hear 'em with patience, if not approbation, rail at and blas- 
pheme the Church, and upon occasion to justifie the King's 
murder ; if to flatter both the dead and the hving in their 
vices, and to tell the world that, if they have wit and money 
enough, they need no repentance, and that only fools and 
beggars can be damn'd ; if these, I say, are the modish and 


fashionable criterions of a true churchman, God dehver us 
from all such False Brethren. 

There is another sort of them who are for a neutrality in 
religion, who really are of none, but are a secret sort of reserv'd 
Atheists, who always pretend to be of the Church, join in the 
herd, and will sometimes frequent our publick Communion, 
as long as the Government appears on our side ; but if any 
thing is to be got by it, can with as safe a conscience slide 
privately into a conventicle, and look as demure as the slyest 
saint amongst 'em. They are equally of all, and of no, com- 
munion ; they are the GaUio's that care for none of these things ; 
they tell us they are for the religion establish'd by law, but 
no longer than 'tis so ; they can see neither sin nor danger in 
that ecclesiastical bugbear, as they call schism, yet talk very 
loud about union, comprehension and moderation. But there 
is another sort of False Brethren, who set up for a greater 
perfection of piety than their neighbours, who like their 
originals, the Pharisees in the Gospel, are always pleading 
their merits before God and the World, with an ostentation of 
sanctity, in comparison with their prophane brethren, with a 
Stand off, for I am holier than thou ! These are the saints, 
that under the pretence of conscience shall commit the most 
abominable impieties, and justify murder, sacrilege and rebel- 
lion by texts of Scripture. There are yet another sort of 
False Brethren, of a quite opposite character to these, who wish 
well to the Church of England, and really believe her constitu- 
tion in doctrine, discipline and worship the best and purest 
in the Christian world, and, when either their tongues, hands 
or purses are wanting in her defence, are ready to sacrifice 
their persons and estates in her vindication. These indeed 
are noble qualifications, and 'tis pity so good a character 
should want any thing to compleat it. And to turn the words 
of our Blessed Saviour to the rich man, yet one thing thou 
lackest, thy zeal is to be shewn in, as well as for, the communion 
of the Church, in obeying her precepts, as well as defending 
her rights. In all these cases there is a serious and dehberate 
act of treachery against conscience and conviction, a base 
forfeiture of that spiritual allegiance we owe to God, and our 
Church, as a sacred Body and fraternity, that ought to pre- 
serve inviolable unity, professing one faith, one baptism, one 
God and Saviour of us all. 


2. But secondly, men may be denominated False Brethren, 
with relation to the State, Government or Society of which 
they are members. The constitutions of most governments 
differing according to their several frames and laws, upon which 
they are built and founded, it is impossible to lay down any 
one universal rule, as the scheme and measure of obedience, 
that may square to every one of them. Only this maxim in 
general, I presume, may be establish'd for the safety, tran- 
quility, and support of all governments, that no innovation 
what soever should be allow'd in the fundamental constitution 
of any state, without a very pressing, nay, unavoidable, neces- 
sity for it ; and whosoever singly or in a private capacity 
should attempt it, is guilty of the highest misdemeanour, and 
is an enemy to that politick body of which he is a member. 
To apply this maxim to our government, in which the truth of 
it will very evidently appear. Our constitution both in Church 
and State has been so admirably contriv'd, with that wisdom, 
weight and sagacity, and the temper and genius of each so 
exactly suited and modell'd to the mutual support and assist- 
ance of one another, that 'tis hard to say whether the doctrines 
of the Church of England contribute more to authorize and 
enforce our civil laws, or our laws to maintain and defend the 
doctrines of our Church. The natures of both are so nicely 
correspondent, and so happily intermixt, that it is almost 
impossible to offer a violation to the one without breaking 
in upon the body of the other. So that in all those cases before 
mentioned, whosoever presumes to innovate, alter or mis- 
represent any point in the articles of the faith of our Church, 
ought to be arraign'd as a traitor to our State ; heterodoxy 
in the doctrines of the one naturally producing, and almost 
necessarily inferring, rebellion, and high treason in the other, 
and consequently a crime that concerns the civil magistrate 
as much to punish, and restrain, as the ecclesiastical. How- 
ever this assertion at first may look an high flown paradox, 
the proof of it will fully appear in a few instances. The grand 
security of our government, and the very pillar upon which 
it stands, is founded upon the steady behef of the subject's 
obligation to an absolute and unconditional obedience to the 
Supreme Power, in all things lawful, and the utter illegahty 
of resistance upon any pretence whatsoever. But this funda- 
mental doctrine, notwithstanding its divine sanction in the 


express command of God in Scripture, and without which it 
is impossible any government of any kind, or denomination 
in the world, should subsist with safety, and which has been so 
long the honourable and distinguishing characteristick of our 
Church, is now, it seems, quite exploded, and ridicul'd out of 
countenance, as an unfashionable, superannuated, nay dan- 
gerous tenet, utterly inconsistent with the right, liberty and 
property of the people ; who, as our new preachers and new 
politicians teach us, have the power invested in them, the foun- 
tain and original of it, to cancel their allegiance at pleasure, 
and call their sovereign to account for high treason against his 
supreme subjects, forsooth; nay to dethrone and murder him 
for a criminal, as they did the Royal Martyr by a judiciary 
sentence. And, what is almost incredible, they presume to 
make their court to their prince by maintaining such anti- 
monarchical schemes. But, God be thanked ! neither the con- 
stitution of our Church or State is so far alter'd but that by the 
laws of both (still in force and which I hope for ever will be) 
these damnable positions, let 'em come either from Rome or 
Geneva, from the Pulpit or the Press, are condemned for rebel- 
lion and high treason. Our adversaries think they effectually 
stop our mouths, and have us sure and unanswerable on this 
point, when they urge the Revolution of this day in their defence. 
But certainly they are the greatest enemies of that, and his 
late Majesty, and the most ungrateful for the deliverance, who 
endeavour to cast such black and odious colours upon both. 
How often must they be told that the King himself solemnly 
disclaimed the least imputation of resistance in his declaration ; 
and that the Parliament declar'd, that they set the Crown on 
his head upon no other title but that of the vacancy of the 
Throne ? And did they not unanimously condemn to the 
flames (as it justly deserv'd) that infamous libel, that would 
have pleaded the title of conquest, by which resistance was 
supported ? So tender were they of the regal rights, and so 
averse to infringe the least tittle of our constitution ! We see 
how ready these incendiaries are to take the least umbrage, 
to charge their own cursed tenets on the Church of England, 
to derive their guile upon it, and quit scores with it for their 
iniquity ! Thus do they endeavour to draw comparisons, and 
to justify the horrid actions and principles of Forty-one, which 
have been of late years, to the scandal of our Church, and 


Nation, so publickly defended, not only by the agents and 
writers of the republican faction, but by some that have the 
confidence to style themselves sons and Presbyters of the 
Church of England. They dare not yet maintain rebellion 
by its proper name. Yet, if those silly pretences, and weak 
excuses for it aUedg'd, carry any strength or reason in them at 
aU, they will equally serve to justify all the rebellions that 
ever were or can be committed in the world. Now as the 
republicans copy after the papists in most of their doctrines 
and practices, I would fain know in this where the difference 
lies bet\vixt the power granted to (as 'tis supposed originally 
invested, but from what commission God knows, in) the people, 
to judge and dethrone their Sovereigns, for any cause they 
think fit, or a no less usurped power of the Pope to solve the 
people from their allegiance, and dispose of scepters and dia- 
dems to his favourites, whenever he thinks it his interest to 
pluck them from his enemies heads. Comparisons are generally 
odious ; but a learned Bishop of our Kingdom, whose aversion 
to Popery, I hope, is not doubted, I mean the Right Reverend 
the Lord Bishop of Sarum,'^ has been bold judiciously to 
determin, even on the Papists' side in this case, that if such a 
deposing power is to be intrusted in mortal hands, less incon- 
veniences will ensure in placing it in one than in many, though 
God forbid it ever should be lodg'd in any other than that of 
God himself, the Original of all power, from whom it proceeds, 
and to whom it must return, the King of Kings, Lord of 
Lords, and only Ruler of Princes. Else a prince indeed in 
another sense will be the breath of his subjects nostrils, to be 
blown in, or out, at their caprice and pleasure, and a worse 
vassal than even the meanest of his Guards. Such villainous 
and seditious principles as these demand a confutation from 
that government they so insolently threaten and arraign, and 
which are only proper to be answer'd by that sword they 
would make our Princes bear in vain, by the so-long-called-for 
censure of an ecclesiastical Synod, and the correction of a 
provok'd and affronted Legislature ; to whose strict justice, 
and undeserv'd mercy, I commit both them and their authors. 
Only give me leave to dismiss 'em with a remark of the pious 
and learned Bishop Andrews upon some of their False Brethren 
in his time. " What (says that good prelate) is now become 

^ Gilbert Burnet. 

lo— (S433) 


of those Words of God, Touch not mine Anointed ? Are we 
not fallen into strange times, that men dare thus print and 
publish, yea, even preach and proclaim, their sins, even those 
sinful and shameless positions, to the eyes and ears of the 
whole world ? Whereby God's Anointed are endanger'd, 
mens souls are poyson'd, Christian Religion is blasphem'd 
as a murtherer of her own Kings, God in his charge is openly 
contradicted, and men made believe they shaU go to Heaven 
in breaking God's commandments." What could have 
been spoken with a more prophetical spirit ? These False 
Brethren in our Government do not singly and in private 
spread their poyson, but (what is lamentable to be spoken) 
are suffer'd to combine into bodies and seminaries, wherein 
atheism, deism, tritheism, Socinianism, with all the hellish 
principles of fanaticism, regicide and anarchy, are openly 
profess'd and taught, to corrupt and debauch the youth of 
the nation, in all parts of it, down to posterity, to the present 
reproach and future extirpation of our laws and religion. 
Certainly the Toleration was never intended to indulge and 
cherish such monsters and vipers in our bosom, that scatter 
their pestilence at noon-day, and will rend, distract and 
confound the firmest and best settl'd constitution in the 
World. In short, as the English Government can never be 
secure on any other principles but strictly those of the Church 
of England, so I will be bold to say, where any part of it is 
trusted in persons of any other nations, they must be false 
to themselves, if they are true to their trusts ; or if they are 
true to their opinions and interests, must betray that govern- 
ment they are enemies to upon principle. Indeed, we must 
do 'em that justice to confess that, since the sectarists have 
found out a way (which their forefathers, God knows, as wicked 
as they were, would have abhorr'd) to swaUow not only oaths 
but sacraments, to qualifie themselves to get into places and 
preferments, these sanctify'd hypocrites can put on a shew of 
loyalty, and seem tolerably easy in the Government, if they 
can engross the honours and profits of it. But let her Majesty 
reach out her little finger to touch their loyns, and these sworn 
adversaries to passive obedience and the Royal Family shall 
fret themselves, and curse their Queen and their God, and shall 
look upwards. And so much for our political False Brethren, 
till I come to speak with 'em again by and by. I proceed. 


1. And first, as to the Church. But here it is very necessary 
to premise that by the Church of England we are to under- 
stand the true genuine notion of it, as it stands contra-dis- 
tinguish'd in its establish'd doctrine, discipline and worship 
from all other churches and schismaticks, who would obtrude 
upon us a wild, negative idea of a National Church, so as to 
incorporate themselves into the body, as true members of it. 
Whereas 'tis evident that this latitudinarian, heterogeneous 
mixture of all persons, of what different faith soever, uniting in 
Protestancy, (which is but one single note of the Church of 
England) would render it the most absurd, contradictory and 
self-inconsistent body in the world. This spurious and vil- 
lainous notion, which will take in Jews, Quakers, Mahometans, 
and anything as well as Christians, as ridiculously incongruous 
as 'tis, may be first observ'd as one of those prime, popular 
engines our False Brethren have made use of to undermine 
the very essential constitution of our Church. But such is 
her hard fortune, her worst adversaries must be let into her 
bowels, under the holy umbrage of sons. But since this model 
of an universal Uberty and coalition fail'd, and these false 
Brethren could not carry the conventicle into the Church, they 
are now resolv'd to bring the Church into the conventicles, 
which will more plausibly and slily effect her ruin. What 
could not be gain'd by comprehension and toleration, must be 
brought about by moderation and occasional conformity. Thus 
our False Brethren, as the Jews did our Blessed Saviour, 
crucify the Church betwixt thieves ; and as they committed 
that execrable villainy under a pretended fear lest the Romans 
should come and take away their place and nation, which by 
that very fact they brought upon themselves : so these men, 
out of a fictitious fear lest the modem Romans should come 
and destroy our Church, are working that ruin they pretend 
to avoid, and, under a false zeal of keeping out popery, are 
themselves infaUibly bringing in that very popery into our 
Kingdom with which they so falsely and ungratefully endea- 
vour to attaint the Church of England, the greatest bulwark, 
and only safeguard against popery in the whole world ! 

2. That the old leaven of their forefathers is still working 
in their present generation, and that this traditional poyson 
still remains in this brood of vipers, to sting us to death, is 
sufficiently visible from the dangerous encroachments they 


now make upon our government, and the treasonable reflex- 
ions they have pubUsh'd on her Majesty, God bless her ! 
whose hereditary rights to the throne they have had the 
impudence to deny and cancel, to make her a creature of their 
own power, and that by the same principles they plac'd a 
crown upon her, they tell us, they (that is, the Mob) may 
reassume it at their pleasure. Nay, now they have advanc'd 
themselves from the religious liberty our gracious Sovereign 
has indulg'd them to claim a civil right, as they term it, and 
to justle the Church out of her estabhshment, by hoisting 
their toleration into its place. Have they not, ever since their 
first unhappy plantation in this kingdom, by the intercession 
of that false son of the Church, Bishop Grindall, always 
improv'd and rise[n] upon their demands in the permission of 
the Government ? Insomuch that Queen Elizabeth, that was 
deluded by that perfidious prelate to the toleration of the 
Genevian discipline, found it such an headstrong and en- 
croaching monster, that in eight years she foresaw it would 
endanger the monarchy, as well as the hierarchy ; and like a 
Queen of true resolution, and pious zeal for both, pronounc'd 
that " such were the restless spirits of that factious people, 
that no quiet was to be expected from them, till they were 
utterly suppress'd " : which, like a prudent princess, she did 
by wholesome severities, that the crown for many years sat 
easy and flourishing on her head. And had her successor, 
King James, but follow'd her wise pohticks, his Son had 
never fall'n a martyr to their fury, nor any of his unhappy 
Offspring suffer'd those disastrous calamities which made the 
Royal Family one continu'd sacrifice to their malice. I would 
not here be misunderstood, as if I intended to cast the least 
invidious reflexion upon that indulgence the Government has 
condescended to give 'em, which I am sure all those that wish 
well to our Church are very ready to grant to consciences 
truly scrupulous ; let them enjoy it in the full limits the law 
has prescrib'd. But let them also move within their proper 
sphere, and not grow eccentrick, and, hke comets that burst 
their orb, threaten the ruin and downfall of our Church and 
State. Indeed they tell us they have relinquish'd the Princi- 
ples, as well as the Sins, of their forefathers. If so, why do they 
not renounce their schism, and come sincerely into our Church ? 
Why do they pelt her with more blasphemous libels, and 


scurrilous lampoons, than were ever publish'd in Oliver's 
usurpation ? Have they not lately villainously divided us 
with knavish distinctions of High and Low Church men ? 
Are not the best characters they can give us those of Papists, 
Jacobites and Conspirators ? When Ehsha, the great prophet 
of God, was surrounded with an host of enemies, that sought 
for his life, his blind servant beheld not the peril his master was 
in, till his eyes were open'd by miracle, and he found himself 
in the midst of horses and chariots of fire. I pray God we may 
be out of danger ; but we may remember the King's person 
was voted to be so, at the same time that his murtherers were 
conspiring his death. I entreat your patience, 

HL Briefly to set forth the hainous malignity, enormous 
guile, and folly of this prodigious sin of False Brotherhood. 

In what moving and lively colours does the holy Psalmist 
point out the crafty insidiousness of such wilely Volpones ! 
Wickedness (says he) is therein, deceit and guile go not out 
of their streets. For it is not an open enemy that has done me 
this dishonour, for then I could have home it ; neither was it 
mine adversary that did magnify himself against me, for then 
peradventure I would have hid myself from him. But it was 
even thou ! my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar 
friend. We took sweet counsel together, and walked in the House 
of God as friends. There is no faithfulness in their mouths, 
their inward parts are very wickedness, their throats are open 
sepulchers, and their words are smoother than oil, yet he they 
very swords. Like Joab, they pretend to speak peaceably, 
and smite us mortally under the fifth rib. 

IV. And indeed it would be both for our advantage, as 
well as their credit, if such men would throw off the mask, 
entirely quit our Church, of which they are no true members, 
and not fraudulently eat her bread, and lay wait for her ruin, 
purloin her revenues, and ungratefully lift up their heels against 
her. For then we should be one fold under one Shepherd, 
all those invidious distinctions that now distract and confound 
us lost, and we should be terrible like an army with banners to 
our enemies, who could never break in upon such an uniform 
and well-compacted body. This indeed would be a true peace 
and solid union, when we should all with one mind and one 
mouth glorify God, and not with a confus'd diversity of con- 
tradictious opinions, and inconsistent jargon of worship. 


which the God of peace, purity, and order cannot but 

Let us therefore, as we are unhappily sharers of St. Paul's 
misfortunes, to have our Church in perils among False Brethren, 
follow his example, and conduct in a parallel case. [Gal. ii.] 
And yet if our dissenters had liv'd in those times, they would 
have branded him as an intemperate, hot, furious zealot, that 
wanted to be sweetened by the gentle spirit of charity, and 
moderation. Let us therefore have no fellowship with these works 
of darkness, but rather reprove them. Let our superior pastors 
do their duty in thundering out their ecclesiastical anathema's, 
and let any power on earth dare reverse a sentence ratify 'd in 
Heaven. Let us therefore, being well assur'd how much 
our cause deserves, and how much at present it requires, our 
bravest resolutions, hold fast our integrity and religion without 
wavering, and earnestly contend for the Faith which was once 
delivered unto the Saints. And let us trust in that gracious 
Providence which so miraculously deliver'd our Church on this 
day, that tho' she lies bleeding of the wounds she has received in 
the house of her friends {Lam. 2. 2, 4), tho' the ways of Zion may 
mourn for a time, and her gates be desolate, her priests sigh 
and she in bitterness, because her adversaries are chief and her 
enemies at present prosper ; tho' among all her lovers she has 
few to comfort her, and many of her friends have dealt treacher- 
ously with her, and are become her enemies [Zech. 13. 6) ; tho' 
there are few to guide her among all the sons whom she hath 
brought forth, neither are there many that take her by the hand, 
of all the sons that she hath brought up [Isai. 51. 18); tho' her 
enemies cry, Down with her, down with her, even to the ground ; 
yet there is a God that can, and will, raise her up, if we forsake 
her not. Let us not therefore ungratefully contribute to her 
destruction, but let us continue steadfast, unmoveable, always 
abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as we know that our 
labour will not be in vain in the Lord (1 Cor. 15. 58). Now, the 
God of all grace, who hath called us to his eternal glory by Christ 
Jesus, after that ye have suffer'd a while, make you perfect, 
stablish, strengthen, settle you (1 Pet. 5. 10. 11). To Him be 
glory, and dominion, for ever and ever, Amen. 

BENJAMIN HOADLY (1676-1761) 

HoADLY is yet another, and unlovelier, type of the political 
ecclesiastic. When on December 14, 1709, the Commons 
voted the impeachment of Dr. Sacheverell, they at the same 
time resolved : " That the Reverend Mr. Benjamin Hoadley, 
Rector of St. Peters Poor, London, for having often strenuously 
justify'd the principles on which Her Majesty and the Nation 
proceeded in the late happy Revolution, hath justly merited 
the Favour and Recommendation of this House." Accord- 
ingly there was carried a humble address to the Queen, praying 
that " She will be graciously pleased to bestow some Dignity 
in the Church on the said Mr. Hoadley, for his eminent Services 
both to Church and State." The reference was especially to 
a sermon — censured by the Lower House of Canterbury Con- 
vocation — called " The Measures of Obedience," in defence 
of the principles of 1688, and to Hoadly's attack on an episcopal 
discourse which the Queen had commanded to be printed. 
The triumph of Sacheverell put the ablest of the Whig writers 
for some years into the background. But at Anne's death 
Hoadly began to bask in official sunshine, and the adulatory 
language which he used towards the new Sovereign, together 
with his tried abilities and convictions — which seem to have 
been quite sincere — ^procured him in 1715 the see of Bangor, 
soon to give its name to the great Bangorian controversy. The 
Scottish rising took place that year. 

The sermon here printed had for its result the silencing of 
the synodical voice of the Church for 135 years, and the con- 
version of the priesthood for two reigns into a nidus of latent 
Jacobitism. Atterbury, Hoadly's old antagonist, it turned 
from a 1688 Tory into the leader of the open Jacobites. It was 
preached at Court on March 31, 1717, the subject being " The 



Nature of the Kingdom or Church of Christ," and was after- 
wards printed by command of George I, who is said to have 
suggested the subject. It was a sequel to a popular treatise 
of the previous year, entitled " A Preservative against the 
Principles and Practices of the Nonjurors in Church and State." 
As soon as the sermon was published, the Nether House of 
Convocation sent up to the Bishops a gravamen and articulus 
cleri, representing that the tendency of the Bishop of Bangor's 
teachings was to " subvert all government and discipline in 
the Church of Christ, and to reduce His Kingdom to a state of 
anarchy and confusion " ; also, " to impugn and impeach the 
Regal Supremacy in causes ecclesiastical, and the authority of 
the Legislature to enforce obedience in matters of religion by 
civil sanctions." 

The Upper House, notwithstanding its ministerial sympathies, 
would have been forced to censure the sermon had not the 
Government hurriedly advised the Crown to prorogue the 
Convocation, which, in spite of the prolonged strife between 
the two Houses, respectively Low Church and High Church, 
was just settling down to useful and practical work. Convoca- 
tion was never thereafter suffered to meet for the transaction 
of business till the Tractarian movement brought about its 
revival in 1854. Yet it is extremely doubtful whether the 
clergy, when formally called together in the ancient manner 
by the Metropolitans, could have been stopped from discussing 
anything they pleased, as long as they did not proceed to enact 
and promulge canons. However, from 1717 dated a century 
and a half of Erastianism and of the stifling of the spiritual 
life of the Church. Of Hoadly's immediate opponents, 
Sherlock, Hare, Snape and Mosse were deprived of their 
Court chaplaincies. The Bishop himself was translated suc- 
cessively to the sees of Hereford, Sahsbury — given to him 
as a reward for his influence in procuring Atterbury's sentence 
— and Winchester. Yet he was almost avowedly an Arian 
and a disciple of Clarke. His private Hfe was free from scandal. 

BENJAMIN HOADLY (1676-1761) 153 

but, during the six years that he enjoyed the revenues of the 
see of Bangor, he never once set foot in his diocese. Hoadly 
in fact is the typical representative of Hanoverian sadduceism 
— what Seeker called " Christianity secundum usum Winton " 
— as his nonjuring antagonist, William Law, stands for a fervid, 
but intellectual, spirituaHty. Of course, the Bishop was a 
nepotist. Few were not. 

The " Low Church " or " Latitudinarian " party — to use the 
convenient names which had already come into accepted use 
two centuries ago — had nothing evangelical about it, and, 
when the Evangelical revival arose, bitterly opposed it. 
Whitefield declared that the Tillotsonian school had always 
been Mahometan. Its " breadth of view " was of a frigid and 
earthly type, very alien from the dreamy and mystical indefi- 
niteness of those " latitude-men " of the Stuart period, the 
Cambridge Platonists. Sachevereh's alarm as to the conse- 
quences of a Whig triumph in Church and State, however 
intemperately expressed, were not exaggerated. When this 
divine, in the year 1712, preached in Lichfield Cathedral, 
little Samuel Johnson, who had been born about the date of 
the delivery of the condemned sermon in 1709, sat perched on 
the shoulders of his father, who declared he " believed the 
child had caught the publick zeal for Sacheverell, and would 
have stayed for ever in the Church, satisfied with beholding 
him." The boy lived to be singular as a worshipper and humble 
believer in the age of Voltaire. In the mid-century the judicial 
Blackstone, after hearing every clergyman of note in London, 
stated that he " did not hear a single discourse having more 
Christianity in it than the writings of Cicero, and that it would 
have been impossible to discover whether the preacher were a 
follower of Mahomet, of Confucius or of Christ." Meanwhile 
the ecclesiastical policy of Walpole had been directed to the 
suppression of any supernatural claim or consciousness in the 
Church, and its steady subjugation to Parhament. Before 
Anne's death there had been hope of the creation of an 


episcopate for America, and other plans of spiritual extension 
were on foot, but the accession of the House of Hanover 
quenched everything ghostly. 

Hoadly's famous sermon, then, must be read in the context 
of the times and of his own Ufelong teachings. It was the 
official challenge of the new dynasty and the new era to the 
doctrine of the organic, historic Church, Divine but Visible. At 
first sight there may seem little in Hoadly's teaching which is 
not part of the commonplaces, challenged only by a few daring 
spirits, of our own day. As the champion of civic toleration, of 
the sovereignty of the individual conscience against authority, 
of sincerity as the one thing in religion that matters — a thesis 
which Whitefield afterwards denounced as soul-damning, 
and which Law smashed most trenchantly in his three Letters 
to the Bishop of Bangor — Hoadly may be regarded merely as a 
pioneer of individualist Liberalism. Yet he was no more 
consistent than other prophets of the same creed have been. The 
doctrine of State neutrality in religion — which Christianity has 
never regarded as an ideal but only as the necessity of a divided 
nation — he combined with a highly Erastian view of the right 
of George I to de-Catholicize the doctrine and discipline of 
the Church of England. His demonstration that authority 
has no place in matters of faith against private judgment is 
forcible and telling, but he does not see that the argument 
holds good against deference to Holy Scripture or to the direct 
teaching of Christ Himself. In the sermon the principal 
topic is the denial of a legislative and judicial authority residing 
in the Church. Convocation justly condemned such a position, 
as intolerable in a prelate of the Church of England, which in 
a hundred ways claims for the Divine Society a disciplinary 
and interpretative office, under Christ. In Hoadly's volu- 
minous replies to his voluminous critics he merely evades the 
issue. He keeps on repeating that he and they are Protestants 
— a name which Convocation after the Revolution had been 
somewhat loth to accept — and that private judgment is the 

BENJAMIN HOADLY (1676-1761) 155 

root principle of Protestantism. He asks what the Reforma- 
tion was but a rejection of papal authority, and with what 
consistency un revolte can precher I'oheissance. He challenged 
the High Church clergy to say why, if submissive non-resistance 
was due to the King, it was not due from them to the Episco- 
pate. Atterbury, however, turns the matter round in the 
remark that Hoadly " charged the clergy with rebellion in the 
Church while he himself preached it up in the State." Hoadly 
manages the ad hominem argument very skilfully. But he 
never really grapples with the issue between him and his 
brother clergy. An example of his method of reply is in dealing 
with the statement of Article XX that " the Church hath 
authority in controversies of faith." The Church, he says, 
means all faithful people, who are hereby required to examine 
the Scriptures for themselves, to determine their own 

Hoadly pointed out that his sermon had not dealt with the 
powers of the Visible Church. But there is little sense in 
denying hierarchical pretensions on the part of an Invisible 
Church. He also said that he had only denied an " absolute " 
vicegerency in the Church for Christ, binding Christians 
" indispensably " to obedience — it was alleged, however, that 
these words were not in the first draft of the sermon. But 
the argument was in that case but a string of truisms. No 
one, at any rate in the Church of England, maintained that 
absolute powers were conveyed by the commission, " What- 
soever ye shall bind on earth," etc., "As my Father hath sent 
(apostled) me, even so send I you " ; or " He that rejecteth 
you rejecteth me." The nature of positive law, whether 
ecclesiastical or other, had been set forth in the closing 
sixteenth century by the massive genius of Hooker. 

At the beginning of a sermon on the same text as Hoadly's 
— " My Kingdom is not of this world " — Mozley finely remarks 
that this text " has, as it were, looked at the Church ever since 
the Church was founded, like an eye fixed upon her, from which 


she cannot escape." But it is seldom observed that the words 
were written not in Enghsh but in Greek, and that the pre- 
position " of " (e/c) expresses not the character of the Kingdom 
or Monarchy of Christ, but its origin and the source of its 
commission — " My Kingdom is not from hence." Chris- 
tianity is not a vestal star moving detached and lonely among 
the systems of the world. The Son of God became incarnate 
that He might regenerate and consecrate all human society, 
and not least the Family and the State, bringing the kingdoms 
of this world into His empire. The remembrance that that 
empire is not " from hence " should always be with the Church 
to save her from the temptation of relying upon carnal weapons 
and worldly methods. But God's universe does not fall into 
compartments quite as simply as the modern mind, accustomed 
to the loss of life's unity, is apt to suppose. Gospel discipline 
involves some coaction, and no corporate recognition of religion 
by the State is possible without some abridgement of liberty. 

The Nature of Christ's Kingdom 

Jesus answered. My Kingdom is not of this world. — St. John xviii, 36. 

One of those great effects which length of time is seen to 
bring along with it is the alteration of the meaning annexed 
to certain sounds. This evil, when it hath once invaded the 
most sacred and important subjects, ought, in duty, to be 
resisted with a more open and undisguised zeal as what toucheth 
the very vitals of all that is good, and is just going to take 
from men's eyes the boundaries of right and wrong. 

The only cure for this evil, in cases of so great concern, is 
to have recourse to the originals of things : to the law of 
reason, in those points which can be traced back thither ; 
and to the declarations of Jesus Christ, and his immediate 
followers, in such matters as took their rise solely from those 
declarations. For the case is plainly this, that words and 
sounds have had such an effect (not upon the nature of things, 
which is unmoveable, but) upon the minds of men in thinking 
of them, that the very same word remaining (which at first 
represented one certain thing), by having multitudes of new 


inconsistent ideas, in every age and every year, added to it, 
becomes itself the greatest hindrance to the true understanding 
of the nature of the thing first intended by it. 

For instance, rehgion, in St. James's days, was virtue and 
integrity as to ourselves, and charity and beneficence to others, 
before God, even the Father. James i, 27. By degrees, it 
has come to signify, in most of the countries throughout the 
whole world, the performance of everything, almost, except 
virtue and charity ; and particularly, a punctual exactness 
in a regard to particular times, places, forms and modes, 
diversified according to the various humours of men ; recom- 
mended and practised under the avowed name of external 
religion : two words, which, in the sense fixed upon them by 
many Christians, God hath put asunder, and which therefore 
no man should join together. And accordingly, the notion 
of a rehgious man differs in every country, just as much as 
times, places, ceremonies, imaginary austerities, and all other 
outward circumstances, are different and various : whereas 
in truth, though a man, truly religious in other respects, may 
make use of such things, yet they cannot be the least part 
of his rehgion, properly so called, any more than his food, or 
his raiment, or any other circumstance of his life. 

Thus hkewise, the worship of God, to be paid by Christians, 
was, in our Saviour's time, and in his own plain words, the 
worship of the Father in spirit and truth. But the notion 
of it is become quite another thing ; and in many Christian 
countries that which still retains the name of the worship 
of God is indeed the neglect and the diminution of the Father, 
and the worship of other beings besides, and more than, the 
Father. And this performed in such a manner as that any 
indifferent spectator would conclude that neither the con- 
sciences nor understandings of men, neither spirit nor truth, 
were at all concerned in the matter ; or rather, that they had 
been banished from it by an express command. In the mean 
time, the word, or sound, still remains the same in discourse. 
The whole lump is indigested and inconsistent notions and 
practices. Again, 

Prayer, in all our Lord's directions about it, and particu- 
larly in that form which he himself taught his followers, was 
a calm, undisturbed address to God, under the notion of a 
Father, expressing those sentiments and wishes before him 


which every sincere mind ought to have. But the same word, 
by the help of men and voluminous rules of art, is come to 
signify heat and flame, in such a manner, and to such a degree, 
that a man may be in the best disposition in the world and 
yet not be devout enough to pray. And many an honest 
person hath been perplexed by this means with doubts and 
fears of being incapable of praying, for want of an intenseness 
of heat, which hath no more relation to the duty than a man's 
being in a fever hath to the sincerity of his professions, or 
addresses to any earthly prince. 

Once more, the love of God and of our Saviour was at first, 
in his ovm words, and those of St. John, many times repeated, 
the keeping his commandments, or doing his will. John xiv, 
15, 21, 23 ; XV, 10. 1 John ii, 5 ; v, 3, 4. 2 John vi. But 
the notion of it was, it seems, left very jejune ; and so hath 
been improved by his later followers, till the same name, 
still kept up in the language of Christians, is far removed from 
the thing principally and first intended, and is come by 
degrees to signify a violent passion, commotion and ecstasy, 
venting itself in such sort of expressions and disorders as other 
passions do ; and this regulated and defined by such a variety 
of imaginations that an ordinary Christian, with the utmost 
sincerity in his heart, is filled with nothing but eternal sus- 
picions, doubts and perplexities whether he hath anything 
of the true love of God or not. 

I have mentioned these particulars, not only to show the 
evil itself, and to how great a degree the nature of things hath 
suffered in the opinions of men by the alteration of the sense 
of the same words and sounds, but to give you occasion to 
observe that there can be no cure for it, in Christians, but to 
go back to the New Testament itself ; because there alone 
we shall find the original intention of such words, or the nature 
of the things designed to be signified by them, declared and 
fixed by our Lord, or his Apostles from him, by some such 
marks as may, if we will attend to them, guide and guard 
us in our notions of those matters, in which we are most of 
all concerned. 

It is with this view that I have chosen those words in which 
our Lord himself declared the nature of his own Kingdom. 
This Kingdom of Christ is the same with the Church of Christ. 
And the notion of the Church of Christ, which, at first, was only 

THh NATCKL 01- CifRlSTS KIN'M;OM V-f); numfxrr, sm;ill ^/r great, of those who believed him to be 
the M'rssiah, or of those who subjected themselves t/^ hi rn, as 
thdr King, in th<«i affair of religion, having since that time 
be^:n vj div(:T->']fifA by the varioas alterations it hath nnflf:r^fmf: 
that it is alrn'-At imp<>sftible so nrach as to mimber up the 
rnariy incori.'.i.-itent image?? tFiat have come, by daily additions, 
to bf; MTiitf-A together in it, nr/thing, I think, can b^; mr/re 
useful, than to con jVler the same thing, under some other image, 
Kiudh hath not been so nmdh used, nor consequently so modi 
defaced. And since the image of his kingdom is that tmder 
idiich oar Lf/rd himself chose to represent it : we may be sure 
that, if we sinc^^rely examine our notions of his Qmrch by wh»at 
he saith of his Kingdom, that it is not of this world, we ^lall 
exclude out of it every thing that he would have exdnded ; 
and then, what remains will be tme, pore, and tmcoiropted. 
And what I have to say, in order to this, will be conqveliaided 
raider two general heads, 

I. As the Qmrch of Christ is the Kingdom of Qnist, he 
himself is King : and in this it is implied that he is himself 
the sole law-giver to his sabjects, and himsdf fbt sde judge 
f their behaviour, in the afEairs of consdoice and eternal 
salvation. And in this sense, therefore, his kmgdom is not 
of this worid, that he hath, in those pomts, left bdund him 
no visiUe hnmane sasthority; no vicegerents, who can be 
said property to sttppty his j^ace ; no interpreters, iq>oa wiiom 
his subjects are abs<Antdy to depend; no judges civer the 
coasdeDces or religion of his peof^. For if this were so, tJiat 
any such absolute vicegerent smthonty, eifher for the making 
new laws, or interpreting oid ones, or fndffng las stdji^ects, in. 
rdiigioos matters, were lodged in sasy men upon eaatth, the 
coDseqaeace woold be tiiat what still retains 1^ name of the 
Qmrch of Quist woidd not be the Kingdom of Quist, but the 
kingdom of those moi, vested with sndi xatbtynty. For 
whoever hath such an 2axthcirity d making laws is so far a 
king. And whoever can add new laws to those of Qirist, 
eqnalfy obligatory, is as trofy a kii^ as Qirist himsdf is. 
Nay, idioever hatli an absdate aaOnxity to interpret any 
written or spoken laws, it is he who is indy the kr«r-giver, 
to an intents and purposes, and not the person wlio first 
wrote orspcke them. 
In hrniwne society, the interpretation of laws may, of 


necessity, be lodged, in some cases, in the hands of those who 
were not originally the legislators. But this is not absolute, nor 
of consequence to society : because the legislators can resume 
the interpretation into their own hands, as they are witnesses 
to what passes in the world ; and as they can, and will, sensibly 
interpose in all those cases in which their interposition becomes 
necessary. And therefore, they are stiU properly the legis- 
lators. But it is otherwise in rehgion, or the Kingdom of 
Christ. He himself never interposeth, since his first promulga- 
tion of his law, either to convey infallibility to such as pretend 
to handle it over again, or to assert the true interpretation of 
it, amidst the various and contradictory opinions of men about 
it. If he did certainly thus interpose, he himself would still 
be the legislator. But, as he doth not, if such an absolute 
authority be lodged with men, under the notion of interpreters, 
they then become the legislators, and not Christ ; and they 
rule in their own kingdom, and not in his. 

It is the same thing as to rewards and punishments, to carry 
forward the great end of his Kingdom. If any men upon earth 
have a right to add to the sanctions of his laws, that is, to 
increase the number, or alter the nature, of the rewards and 
punishments of his subjects, in matters of conscience or salva- 
tion, they are so far kings in his stead, and reign in their own 
kingdom, and not in his. So it is, whenever they erect tribunals 
and exercise a judgment over the consciences of men, and 
assume to themselves the determination of such points as cannot 
be determined by one who knows the hearts ; or, when they 
make any of their own declarations or decisions to concern 
and affect the state of Christ's subjects with regard to the 
favour of God, this is so far the taking Christ's Kingdom 
out of his hands, and placing it in their own. 

Nor is this matter at all made better by their declaring 
themselves to be vicegerents, or law-makers, or judges, under 
Christ, in order to carry on the ends of his kingdom. For it 
comes to this at last, since it doth not seem fit to Christ himself 
to interpose so as to prevent or remedy all their mistakes and 
contradictions, that, if they have this power of intepreting 
or adding laws, and judging men, in such a sense that Chris- 
tians shall be indispensably and absolutely obhged to obey 
those laws, and to submit to those decisions ; I say, if they have 
this power lodged with them, then the kingdom in which they 


rule is not the Kingdom of Christ, but of themselves ; he doth 
not rule in it, but they : and, whether they happen to agree 
with him, or differ from him, as long as they are the law-givers, 
and judges, without any interposition from Christ, either to 
guide or correct their decisions, they are kings of this kingdom, 
and not Christ Jesus. 

II. The next principal point is that, if the Church be the 
Kingdom of Christ, and this kingdom be not of this world, 
this must appear from the nature and end of the laws of Christ, 
and of those rewards and punishments which are the sanctions 
of his laws. Now his laws are declarations relating to the 
favour of God in another state after this. They are declara- 
tions of those conditions to be performed in this world, on our 
part, without which God will not make us happy in that to 
come. And they are almost all general appeals to the will 
of that God ; to his nature, known by the common reason 
of mankind ; and to the imitation of that nature, which must 
be our perfection. The keeping his commandments is declared 
the way to life ; and the doing his will, the entrance into the 
Kingdom of Heaven. The being subjects to Christ is to this 
very end, that we may the better and more effectually perform 
the will of God. The laws of this kingdom, therefore, as Christ 
left them, have nothing of this world in their view ; no tendency 
either to the exaltation of some, in worldly pomps and dignity, 
or to their absolute dominion over the faith and religious 
conduct of others of his subject, or to the erecting of any 
sort of temporal kingdom, under the covert and name of a 
spiritual one. 

The sanctions of Christ's law are rewards and punishments. 
But of what sort ? Not the rewards of this world ; not the 
offices, or glories, of this state ; not the pains of prisons, 
banishments, fines, or any lesser and more moderate penalties ; 
nay, not the much lesser discouragements that belong to 
humane society. He was far from thinking that these could be 
the instruments of such a perswasion as he thought acceptable 
to God. But, as the great end of his Kingdom was to guide 
men to happiness, after the short images of it were over here 
below, so he took his motives from that place where his King- 
dom first began, and where it was at last to end ; from those 
rewards and punishments in a future state which had no rela- 
tion to this world. And, to show that his Kingdom was not of 
II— (2433) 


this world, all the sanctions which he thought fit to give to 
his laws were not of this world at all. 

St. Paul understood this so well that he gives an account 
of his own conduct, and that of others in the same station, in 
these words, " Knowing the terrors of the Lord, we perswade 
men " : whereas, in too many Christian countries, since his 
days, if some, who profess to succeed him, were to give an 
account of their own conduct, it must be in a quite contrary 
strain : — Knowing the terrors of this world, and having them 
in our power, we do, not perswade men, but force their outward 
profession against their inward perswasion. And, indeed, 
it is too visible to be hid, that, wherever the rewards and punish- 
ments are changed from future to present, from the world to 
come to the world now in possession, there the Kingdom 
founded by our Saviour is, in the nature of it, so far changed 
that it is become, in such a degree, what he professed his 
Kingdom was not : that is, of this world ; of the same sort 
with other common earthly kingdoms, in which the rewards 
are worldly honours, posts, offices, pomp, attendance, domin- 
ion ; and the punishments are prisons, fines, banishments, 
gaUies and racks ; or something less, of the same sort. 

If these can be the true supports of a kingdom which is not 
of this world, then sincerity and hypocrisy, rehgion and 
no religion, force and perswasion, a willing choice and a 
terrified heart, are both the same things ; truth and falsehood 
stand in need of the same methods, to propagate and support 
them ; and our Saviour himself was httle acquainted with the 
right way of increasing the* number of such subjects as he 
wished for. If he had but at first enhghtened the powers of 
this world, as he did St. Paul ; and employed the sword which 
they bore, and the favours they had in their hands, to bring 
subjects into his Kingdom ; this had been an expeditious and 
an effectual way, according to the conduct of some of his pro- 
fessed followers, to have had a glorious and extensive King- 
dom or Church. But this was not his design ; unless it could 
be compassed in quite a different way. 

And therefore, when you see our Lord, in his methods, so 
far removed from those of many of his disciples ; when you 
read nothing, in his doctrine about his own Kingdom, of 
taking in the concerns of this world, and mixing them with 
those of Eternity ; no commands that the frowns and 


discouragements of this present state should in any case attend 
upon conscience and religion ; no rules against the enquiry of 
all his subjects into his original message from Heaven ; no 
orders for the kind and charitable force of penalties, or capital 
punishments, to make men think and chuse aright ; no calling 
upon the secular arm, whenever the magistrate should become 
Christian, to inforce his doctrines, or to back his spiritual 
authority ; but, on the contrary, as plain a declaration as a 
few words can make that his Kingdom is not of this world : 
I say, when you see this, from the whole tenour of the Gospel, 
so vastly opposite to many who take his name into their 
mouths, the question with you ought to be, whether he did not 
know the nature of his own Kingdom, or Church, better than 
any since his time ? whether you can suppose, he left any 
such matters to be decided against himself and his own express 
professions ; and, whether, if an angel from Heaven should 
give you any account of his Kingdom, contrary to what he 
himself hath done, it can be of any weight, or authority, with 
Christians ? 

I will only make two or three observations, grounded upon 
this : and so conclude. 

1. From what hath been said it is very plain, in general, 
that the grossest mistakes in judgment about the nature of 
Christ's Kingdom, or Church, have arisen from hence, that 
men have argued from other visible societies, and other visible 
kingdoms of this world, to what ought to be visible and sensible 
in his Kingdom : constantly leaving out of their notion the 
most essential part of it, that Christ is King in his own 
Kingdom ; forgetting this King himself, because he is not 
now seen by mortal eyes, and substituting others in his place. 
Whereas he hath positively warned them against any such 
arguings by assuring them that this Kingdom is his Kingdom, 
and that it is not of this world ; and therefore that no one of 
his subjects is law-giver and judge over others of them, in 
matters relating to salvation, but he alone ; and that we must 
not frame our ideas from the kingdoms of this world, of what 
ought to be, in a visible and sensible manner, in his Kingdom. 

2. From what hath been said it appears that the Kingdom 
of Christ, which is the Church of Christ, is the number of 
persons who are sincerely, and willingly, subjects to him, as Law- 
giver and Judge, in aU matters truly relating to conscience, 


or eternal salvation. And the more close and immediate 
this regard to him is, the more certainly and the more 
evidently true it is, that they are of his Kingdom. This may 
appear fully to their own satisfaction, if they have recourse 
to him himself in the Gospel ; if they think it a sufficient 
authority that he hath declared the conditions of their salvation 
and that no man upon earth hath any authority to declare 
any other, or to add one tittle to them ; if they resolve to 
perform what they see he laith a stress upon ; and if they trust 
no mortal with the absolute direction of their consciences, the 
pardon of their sins, or the determining of their interests in 
God's iavour ; but wait for their Judge, who alone can bring 
to light the hidden things of darkness. 

Nor need they envy the happiness of others, who may think 
it a much more evident mark of their belonging to the King- 
dom of Christ that they have other law-givers and judges in 
Christ's religion, besides Jesus Christ ; that they have recourse 
not to his own words, but to the words of others who profess 
to interpret them ; that they are ready to submit to this 
interpretation, let it be what it will ; that they have set up 
to themselves the idol of an unintelligible authority, both in 
belief and worship and practice ; in words, under Jesus 
Christ, but in deed and truth over him ; as it removes the 
minds of his subjects from himself to weak, and passionate men ; 
and as it claims the same rule and power in his Kingdom 
which he himself alone can have. 

There are some professed Christians who contend openly for 
such an authority as indispensably obliges all around them to 
unity of profession ; that is, to profess even what they do not, 
what they cannot, believe to be true. This sounds so grossly 
that others, who think they act a glorious part in opposing 
such an enormity, are very willing, for their own sakes, to 
retain such an authority as shall oblige men, whatever they 
themselves think, though not to profess what they do not 
believe, yet, to forbear the profession and pubhcation of what 
they do believe, let them believe it of never so great importance. 

Both these pretensions are founded upon the mistaken 
notion of the peace, as well as the authority, of the Kingdom, 
that is the Church, of Christ. Which of them is the most 
unsupportable to an honest and a Christian mind, I am not 
able to say : because they both equally found the authority 


of the Church of Christ upon the ruines of sincerity and common 
honesty, and mistake stupidity and sleep for peace ; because 
they would both equally have prevented all reformation where 
it hath been, and will forever prevent it where it is not already ; 
and, in a word, because both equaUy devest Jesus Christ of 
his empire in his own Kingdom ; set the obedience of his 
subjects loose from himself ; and teach them to prostitute their 
consciences at the feet of others, who have no right in such 
a manner to trample upon them. 

The peace of Christ's Kingdom is a manly and reasonable 
peace, built upon charity, and love, and mutual forbearance, 
and receiving one another as God receives us. As for any other 
peace, founded upon a submission of our honesty, as well as 
our understandings, it is falsely so called. It is not the peace 
of the Kingdom of Christ, but the lethargy of it and a sleep 
unto death, when his subjects shall throw off their relation to 
him, fix their subjection to others, and even in cases where 
they have a right to see, and where they think they see, his 
wiU otherwise, shall shut their eyes and go bhndfold at the 
command of others, because those others are not pleased 
with their enquiries into the will of their great Lord and 

To conclude. The Church of Christ is the Kingdom of Christ. 
He is King in his own Kingdom. He is sole Law-giver to his 
subjects, and sole Judge in matters relating to salvation. His 
laws and sanctions are plainly fixed, and relate to the favour 
of God, and not at all to the rewards, or penalties, of this 
world. All his subjects are equally his subjects, and, as such, 
equally without authority to alter, to add to, or to interpret, 
his laws so as to claim the absolute submission of others to 
such interpretation. And all are his subjects, and in his 
Kingdom, who are ruled and governed by him. Their faith 
was once delivered by him. The conditions of their happi- 
ness were once laid down by him. The nature of God's wor- 
ship was once declared by him. And it is easy to judge, 
whether of the two is most becoming a subject of the Kingdom 
of Christ, that is, a member of his Church — to seek all these 
particulars in those plain and short declarations of their King 
and Law-giver himself, or to hunt after them through the 
infinite contradictions, the numberless perplexities, the endless 
disputes, of weak men, in several ages, tiU the enquirer himself 


is lost in the labyrinth, and perhaps sits down in despair or 
infidehty. If Christ be our King, let us shew ourselves 
subjects to him alone, in the great affair of conscience and 
eternal salvation, and, without fear of man's judgment, live 
and act as becomes those who wait for the appearance of an 
all-knowing and impartial Judge, even that King, whose 
Kingdom is not of this world. 

JOHN WESLEY (1703-1791) 

After Hoadly comes Wesley, the hammer of Sadduceism. The 
sermon given below is one which was suppressed in all editions 
of Wesley's Works for many years, but it saw the light in 
1825 and. was reprinted about thirty years since. It was 
delivered in Ireland in 1789, within two years of his death, and 
first appeared in 1790 in the Arminian Methodist Magazine, but 
Whitehead says that it was preached more than once before 
the " assembled preachers." In 1789 Wesley pubhshed the 
Thoughts on Separation. Being in Ireland that year on his 
last visit, he found the Dublin and Cork Societies much troubled 
by proposals for final severance from the Church. He met 
them in Dubhn on Easter Day and, as he relates, " explained 
to them the original design of the Methodists, viz., not to be a 
distinct party, but to stir up all parties, Christians as well as 
heathens, to worship God in spirit and in truth, but the Church 
of England in particular, to which they belonged from the 
beginning. With this view I have uniformly gone on for 
fifty years, never varying from the doctrine of the Church at 
aU, nor from her discipline of choice, but of necessity." 

Three weeks later he preached the " Korah " sermon at Cork, 
and afterwards it seems at Capoquin, near Lismore. The 
entries in his Journal are these : — " Sunday, May 3. The 
house was sufficiently filled with people as well as with the 
power of God. Monday, 4. So it was again at five [a.m.], 
when I endeavoured to quench the fire which some had laboured 
to kindle among the poor quiet people about separating from the 

In 1791, just before his death, Wesley wrote : " How shall 
an Assistant be qualified ? By walking closely with God. . . . 
By loving the Church of England and resolving not to 



separate from it. Let this be well observed. I fear, when 
the Methodists leave the Church, God will leave them." 

Wesley's blindness to facts and to the patent consequences 
of his own policy of half a century is very astonishing. His 
magnificent imperiousness and superb self-belief made him 
think that he could order about events and logic and men's 
thoughts as he pleased. Two entirely different lives of this 
man, in some ways the greatest figure of the eighteenth century, 
might be written. A book published more than forty years 
ago, John Wesley in Company with High Churchmen, had no 
difficulty in quoting passage after passage favouring sacra- 
mentalism and sacerdotalism, and denouncing disloyalty to 
the Church. In 1775 he described himself as a " High-church- 
man, the son of a High-churchman." On the other hand, the 
eminent Wesleyan, Dr. Rigg, in his book The Churchmanship 
of John Wesley, has a perfect right to say that there was 
quite a different side to Wesley's beliefs. Moreover, " no 
injunctions or entreaties on his part could change the logic 
of facts, or prevent the necessary consequences of the course 
he himself pursued so steadily for fifty years. Besides, his 
sayings on the other side were sharp and strong. . . In London 
and Bristol, his chief centres, the service had almost from the 
beginning been held in Church hours. . . Wesley not only 
pointed but paved the way for all that has since been done." 
Dr. Rigg also points out that Wesley's anger with the preachers 
who had taken the ministry of the sanctuary upon them- 
selves was not that the Church, but that he, had not commis- 
sioned them. " Where did I appoint you to this ? Nowhere 
at all." 

Half a century before his death Wesley built meeting-houses, 
and almost from the first administered Sacraments in them. 
In 1741, in which year he and Whitefield broke apart, Wesley 
called out lay-preachers, not only for preaching but for visita- 
tion — " and whether I have gone far enough, I am extreamly 
doubtful." From that day the Society, instead of being a 

JOHN WESLEY (1703-1791) 169 

brotherhood for developing ghostly life in the Church, became 
more and more identified in his mind with the Church itself. 
Wakeman says : — 

" It represented to him all that was vital in rehgion. 
Unhke St. Francis or St. Ignatius, he never submitted the rules 
of his Society to the authorities of the Church. He never 
sought provincial, or even diocesan, sanction for his action. 
He swept away with a wave of his hand the territorial organisa- 
tion of the Church, as Luther did the epistle of St. James. 
' It is an epistle of straw,' said the masterful reformer. ' It 
is a rope of sand,' said the no less masterful revivalist. The 
Methodist Society was to override all diocesan and parochial 
limits by the simple will of its founder. This is the very spirit 
of schism. . . The Methodist Society broke right across the 
Church's system with its claim of religious superiority, but in a 
very few years it adopted a similar system of its own, only with 
different local areas. The circuit took the place of the parish, 
the superintendent that of the bishop, and Wesley — and here 
was the chief difference — became the pope. He would not 
even suspend the action of the Society in parishes where one 
of his own friends and sympathisers was incumbent. What 
wonder that the English clergy, who found their parishes invaded 
\^dthout the knowledge and consent of the bishop, a preaching- 
house erected, and laymen preaching therein without his 
licence, should be somewhat sceptical as to the love of the 
leaders of the Society for the Church of England. 

" Wesley's failure lay in his inability to grasp the essentially 
spiritual character of the organisation of the Church imder all 
the paraphernalia of law. He looked upon the Church mainly 
as a legal establishment of rehgion, and never understood that, 
apart from the sanction of the bishop, express or implied, all 
pastoral ministration must be irregular. By his own authority 
alone Wesley organised his Society on a basis absolutely 
opposed to the first principles of Church order, and the Society 
itself founded its spiritual life on a doctrine which, as taught 


and believed therein, was absolutely contrary to Catholic 
theology. Practically, whatever the Wesleys themselves 
might think, or say, they were in fact treating England as a 
heathen coimtry. 

" Naturally enough, the members of the Society soon became 
far more impatient of the restraints of the Church than were 
their leaders. To them the Society through which they had 
experienced the delicious pangs of the new birth, in which they 
were being trained in the life of Christian perfection, was 
their spiritual home. The Church was an organisation outside 
their spiritual life. They had no filial duty to her clergy or her 
bishops. Many of them had never been inside a church until 
as Methodists they went to receive the Holy Communion. 
As the Society grew, and its organisation became more elab- 
orate and self-suihcing, the tendency to greater and greater 
independence became irresistible. Wesley lamented it, strug- 
gled against it, and submitted to it. He had founded his 
Society on a basis outside Church principle. He had no right 
to complain if it developed itself on lines outside Church order. 
To some extent the law itself hastened the separation. But 
the Society itself had no scruples in accepting the position of a 
sect. . . In 1760 distinct acts of schism were committed by 
the lay preachers of Norwich, who took upon themselves to 
administer the Holy Communion. From that time, as Grim- 
shaw of Haworth said, the Methodists were to all intents and 
purposes a nonconformist sect." ^ 

A good deal more than a question of " Church order " was 
at stake, and it was of no avail for Wesley, in spite of what 
the biographer Whitehead describes as his absolute autocracy 
in the Society, to cry, " In God's name, stop ! " In 1784 he 
obtained a legal constitution for the governing Hundred of 
" the People called Methodists," with power to appoint minis- 
ters and preachers. In that year he went through the form, 
despite his brother Charles's protests, of consecrating two 

* History of the Church of England, pp. 443 ff 


" superintendents " for America ; the year after he ordained 
ministers for the Scottish congregations — he made them, 
however, put off their canonicals and the title " Reverend " 
on crossing the border — and some in 1788 for England. In 
1789 he ordained two " presbyters " for English Methodists. 
He continued to " warn the people not to call our preachers 
Ministers or our Society a Church." But he had not been 
three years in his grave before the lay preachers were permitted 
to administer Sacraments, their ordination being frankly 
from below and, until 1836, with no form beyond the dehvery 
of the " Larger Minutes." The name " Minister " was first 
officially recognised, and the word " Church " used, in 1839. 
Thus do strong-willed men, dominating and imperial spirits, 
generate earth-shaking forces which they cannot guide or 
control. " Methodism, so called," said Wesley in 1777, " is 
the old religion, the religion of the Bible, the rehgion of the 
Primitive Church, the religion of the Church of England." 
Bishop Butler thought differently. 

The Gainsaying of Korah 

No man taketh this honour unto himself, but he that is called of God, as was 
Aaron. — Hebrews v, 4. 

1. There are exceeding few texts of Holy Scripture which 
have been more frequently urged than this against Laymen, 
that are neither Priests nor Deacons, and yet take upon them 
to preach. Many have asked. How dare any take this honour 
to himself, unless he be called of God, as was Aaron P And a 
pious and sensible Clergyman some years ago published a 
Sermon on these words, wherein he endeavours to shew, that 
it is not enough to be inwardly called of God to preach, as many 
imagine themselves to be, unless they are outwardly called by 
men sent of God for that purpose, as Aaron was called of God by 

2. But there is one grievous flaw in this argument, as often 
it has been urged. Called of God as was Aaron f But Aaron did 
not preach at all : he was not called to it either by God or man. 
Aaron was called to minister in holy things : to offer up prayers 


and sacrifices : to execute the office of a Priest. But he was 
never called to be a Preacher. 

3. In ancient times the office of a Priest and that of a 
Preacher were known to be entirely distinct. And so everyone 
will be convinced that impartially traces the matter from the 
beginning. From Adam to Noah it is allowed by all that the 
first-born in every family was of course the Priest in that 
family, by virtue of his primogeniture. But this gave him 
no right to be a Preacher, or (in the scriptural language) a 
Prophet. This office not unfrequently belonged to the youngest 
branch of the family. For in this respect God always asserted 
his right, to send by whom he would send. 

4. From the time of Noah to that of Moses the same obser- 
vation may be made. The eldest of the family was the Priest, 
but any other might be the Prophet. This, the office of Priest, 
we find Esau inherited by virtue of his birth-right : till he 
profanely sold it to Jacob, for a mess of pottage. And this it 
was which he could never recover, though he sought it carefully 
with tears. 

5. Indeed in the time of Moses a very considerable change 
was made with regard to the Priesthood. God then appointed 
that, instead of the first-born in every house, a whole tribe 
should be dedicated to him : and that all that afterwards 
ministered unto him as Priests should be of that tribe. Thus 
Aaron was one of the tribe of Levi. And so likewise was 
Moses. But he was not a Priest, though he was the greatest 
Prophet that ever lived, before God brought his first begotten 
into the world. Meantime not many of the Levites were 
Prophets. And if any were, it was a mere accidental thing. 
They were not such, as being of that tribe. Many, if not most, 
of the Prophets (as we are informed by the antient Jewish 
writers) were of the tribe of Simeon. And some men of the 
tribe of Benjamin or Judah, and probably of other tribes also. 

6. But we have reason to believe there were, in every age, 
two sorts of Prophets. The extraordinary, such as Nathan, 
Isaiah, Jeremiah, and many others, on whom the Holy Ghost 
came in an extraordinary manner. Such was Amos in par- 
ticular, who saith of himself (ch. vii, 14), / was no prophet, 
neither a prophet's son. But I was an herdman, and the Lord 
said unto me. Go, prophesy unto my people Israel. The ordinary 
were those who were educated in the schools of the prophets. 


one of which was at Ramah, over which Samuel presided, 
1 Sam. xix, 18. These were trained up to instruct the people, 
and were the ordinary Preachers in their Synagogues. In the 
New Testament they are usually termed Scribes, or voixlkoi, 
expounders of the law. But few, if any, of them were Priests. 
These were all along a different order. 

7. Many learned men have shown at large that our Lord 
himself, and all his Apostles, built the Christian Church as 
nearly as possible on the plan of the Jewish. So the great 
High Priest of our profession sent Apostles and Evangelists 
to proclaim glad tidings to all the world, and then Pastors, 
Preachers and Teachers, to build up in the faith the congrega- 
tions that should be found. But I do not find that ever the 
office of an Evangelist was the same with that of a Pastor, 
frequently called a Bishop. He presided over the flock, and 
administered the sacraments : the former assisted him and 
preached the word, either in one or more congregations. I 
cannot prove from any part of the New Testament, or from 
any author of the three first centuries, that the office of an 
Evangelist gave any man a right to act as a Pastor or Bishop. 
I believe these offices were considered as quite distinct from 
each other, till the time of Constantine. 

8. Indeed, in that evil hour when Constantine the Great 
called himself a Christian, the case was widely altered. It 
soon grew common for one man to take the whole charge of a 
congregation, in order to engross the whole pay. Hence the 
same person acted as Priest and Prophet, as Pastor and Evan- 
gelist. And this gradually spread more and more, throughout 
the whole Christian Church. Yet even at this day, although 
the same person usually discharges both those offices, yet the 
office of an Evangelist or Teacher does not imply that of a 
Pastor, to whom peculiarly belongs the administration of the 
sacraments : neither among the Presbyterians, nor in the 
Church of England, nor even among the Roman Catholicks. 
All Presbyterian Churches, it is well known, that of Scotland 
in particular, license men to preach before they are ordained, 
throughout the whole kingdom. And it is never understood 
that this appointment to preach gives them any right to 
administer the sacraments. Likewise, in our own Church, 
persons may be authorized to preach, yea, may be Doctors of 
Divinity (as was Dr. Alwood at Oxford, when I resided there), 


who are not ordained at all, and consequently have no right 
to administer the Lord's Supper. Yea, even in the Church 
of Rome itself, if a Lay-brother believes he is called to go a 
mission, as it is termed, he is sent out, though neither Priest 
nor Deacon, to execute that office, and not the other. 

9. " But may it not be thought that the case now before us 
is different from all these ? " Undoubtedly in many respects 
it is. Such a phenomenon has now appeared as has not 
appeared in the Christian world before, at least not for many 
ages. Two young men sowed the word of God, not only in the 
Churches, but likewise literally by the high-wayside, and 
indeed in every place where they saw an open door, where 
sinners had ears to hear. They were members of the Church of 
England, and had no design of separating from it. And they 
advised all that were of it to continue therein, although they 
joined the Methodist society ; for this did not imply leaving 
their former congregation, but only leaving their sins. The 
Church-men might go to Church still ; the Presbyterian, 
Anabaptist, Quaker, might still retain their own opinions, 
and attend their own congregations. The having a real 
desire to flee from the wrath to come was the only condition 
required of them. Whosoever therefore feared God and worked 
righteousness was qualified for this Society. 

10. Not long after, a young man {Thomas Maxfield) offered 
himself to serve them as a son in the gospel. And then another, 
Thomas Richards, and a little after a third, Thomas Westell. 
Let it be well observed on what terms we received these, viz. 
as Prophets, not as Priests. We received them, wholly and 
solely, to preach, not to administer Sacraments. And those 
who imagine these offices to be inseparably joined are totally 
ignorant of the constitution of the whole Jewish as well as 
Christian Church. Neither the Romish nor the English nor 
the Presbyterian churches ever accounted them so. Otherwise 
we should never have accepted the service either of Mr. 
Maxfield, Richards, or Westell. 

11. In 1744, all the Methodist Preachers had their first 
Conference. But none of them dreamed that the being called 
to preach gave them any right to administer Sacraments. 
And when that question was proposed, " In what light are we 
to consider ourselves ? " it was answered, " As extraordinary 
messengers, raised up to provoke the ordinary ones to jealousy." 


In order hereto, one of our first rules was given to each Preacher, 
" You are to do that part of the work which we appoint." But 
what work was this ? Did we ever appoint you to administer 
Sacraments, to exercise the Priestly Office ? Such a design 
never entered into our mind ; it was the farthest from our 
thoughts. And if any Preacher had taken such a step, we 
should have looked upon it as a palpable breach of this rule, 
and consequently as a recantation of our connexion. 

12. For, supposing (what I utterly deny) that the receiving 
you as a Preacher at the same time gave an authority to 
administer the Sacraments : yet it gave you no other authority 
than to do it, or any thing else, where I appoint. But where 
did I appoint you to do this ? No where at all. Therefore 
by this very rule you are excluded from doing it. And in 
doing it you renounce the first principle of Methodism, which 
was wholly and solely to preach the gospel. 

13. It was several years after our Society was formed, 
before any attempt of this kind was made. The first was, I 
apprehend, at Norwich. One of our Preachers there yielded 
to the importunity of a few of the people, and baptized their 
children. But, as soon as it was known, he was informed it 
must not be, unless he designed to leave our connexion. He 
promised to do it no more : and I suppose he kept his promise. 

14. Now, as long as the Methodists keep to this plan, they 
cannot separate from the Church. And this is our pecuUar 
glory. It is new upon the earth. Revolve all the histories 
of the Church, from the earhest ages, and you will find, when- 
ever there was a great work of God in any particular city or 
nation, the subjects of that work soon said to their neigh- 
bours, " Stand by yourselves, for we are holier than you ! " 
As soon as ever they separated themselves, either they retired 
into deserts, or they built religious houses ; or at least formed 
parties, into which none was admitted but such as subscribed 
both to their judgment and practice. But with the Methodists 
it is quite otherwise. They are not a Sect or Party. They 
do not separate from the Rehgious Community to which they 
at first belonged. They are still members of the Church. 
Such they desire to five and die. And, I believe, one reason 
why God is pleased to continue my life so long, is to confirm 
them in their present purpose, not to separate from the 


15. But, notwithstanding this, many warm men say, " Nay, 
but you do separate from the Church." Others are equally 
warm, because, they say, I do not. I will nakedly declare 
the thing as it is. 

I hold all the doctrines of the Church of England. I love 
her Uturgy. I approve her plan of discipline, and only wish 
it could be put in execution. I do not knowingly vary 
from any rule of the Church, unless in those few instances 
where I judge, and as far as I judge, there is an absolute 

For instance : 1 . As few Clergymen open their Churches to me, 
I am under the necessity of preaching abroad. 

2. As I know no forms that will suit all occasions, I am often 
under a necessity of praying extempore. 

3. In order to build up the flock of Christ in faith and love, 
I am under a necessity of uniting them together, and of dividing 
them into little Companies, that they may provoke one another 
to love and good works. 

4. That my fellow-labourers and I may more effectually 
assist each other, to save our own souls and those that hear us, 
I judge it necessary to meet the preachers, or at least the 
greater part of them, once a year. 

5. In those Conferences we fix the stations of all the 
Preachers for the ensuing year. 

But all this is not separating from the Church. So far 
from it that, whenever I have opportunity, I attend the 
Church Service myself, and advise all our Societies so to 

16. Nevertheless as the generality even of religious people, 
who do not understand my motives of acting, on the one hand 
hear me profess that I will not separate from the Church, 
and on the other [see] that I do vary from it in these 
instances, they will naturally think, " I am inconsistent with 
myself." And they cannot but think so, unless they observe 
my two principles. The one, that I dare not separate from 
the Church, that I believe it would be a sin so to do : the 
other, that I believe it would be a sin not to vary from it in 
the points above mentioned. I say, put these two principles 
together, first, I will not separate from the Church, yet, 
secondly, in cases of necessity, I wiU vary from it (both of 
which I have constantly and openly avowed, for upwards of 


fifty years), and inconsistency vanishes away. I have been 
true to my profession from 1730 to this day. 

17. " But, is it not contrary to your profession to permit 
services in Dublin at Church hours ? For what necessity is 
there for this ? Or what good end does it answer ? " I 
believe it answers several good ends, which could not so well 
be answered any other way. The first is, (strange as it may 
sound) to prevent a separation from the Church. Many of our 
Society were totally separated from the Church : they never 
attended it at all. But now they duly attend the Church 
every first Sunday in the month. " But had they not better 
attend it every week ? " Yes ; but who can persuade them 
to it ? I cannot. I have strove to do it, twenty or thirty years, 
but in vain . The second is, the weaning them from attending 
Dissenting Meetings, which many of them attended constantly, 
but have now wholly left. The third is, the constantly hearing 
that sound Doctrine which is able to save their souls. 

18. I wish all of you who are vulgarly termed Methodists 
would seriously consider what has been said. And particularly 
you, whom God hath commissioned to caU sinners to repent- 
ance. It does by no means follow from hence, that ye are com- 
missioned to baptize, or to administer the Lord's Supper. 
Ye never dreamed of this, for ten or twenty years, after ye 
began to preach. Ye did not then, like Korah, Dathan and 
Abiram, seek the priesthood also. Ye knew, No man taketh 
this honour unto himself but he that is called of God, as was 
Aaron. O contain yourselves within your own bounds. Be 
content with preaching the gospel. Do the work of Evangelists. 
Proclaim to all the world the loving kindness of God our 
Saviour. Declare to all. The kingdom of Heaven is at hand: 
repent ye and believe the gospel. I earnestly advise you, abide 
in your place, keep your own station. Ye were fifty years 
ago, those of you that were then Methodist Preachers, extraor- 
dinary messengers of God, not going in your own will, but 
thrust out, not to supersede, but to provoke to jealousy, the 
ordinary messengers. In God's name, stop there ! Both by 
your preaching and example, provoke them to love and to 
good works. Ye are a new phenomenon in the earth : a body 
of people who, being of no sect or party, are friends to all 
parties, and endeavour to forward all in Heart Religion, in 
the knowledge and love of God and man. Ye yourselves were 

l«— (2433) 


at first called in the Church of England : and though ye have 
and will have a thousand temptations to leave it, and set up 
for yourselves, regard them not. Be Church of England men 
still. Do not cast away the peculiar glory which God hath 
put upon you, and frustrate the design of Providence, the very 
end for which God raised you up. 

19. I would add a few words to those serious people who are 
not connected wHh the Methodists : many of whom are of our 
own Church, the Church of England. And why should ye be 
displeased with us ? We do you no harm : we do not design 
or desire to offend you in any thing. We hold your doctrines : 
we observe your rules, more than do most of the people in the 
kingdom. Some of you are clergymen. And why should ye, 
of all men, be displeased with us ? We neither attack your 
character nor your revenue. We honour you for your 
work's sake ! If we see some things which we do not approve 
of, we do not publish them. We rather cast a mantle over 
them, and hide what we cannot commend. When ye treat 
us unkindly or unjustly, we suffer it. Being reviled, we bless. 
We do not return railing for railing. O let not your hand be 
upon us ! 

20. Ye that are rich in this world, count us not j^our enemies, 
because we tell you the truth : and it may be in a fuller and 
stronger manner than any others will or dare do. Ye have 
therefore need of us, inexpressible need. Ye cannot buy such 
friends at any price. All your gold and silver cannot purchase 
such. Make use of us while ye may. If it be possible, never 
be without some of those who will speak the truth from their 
heart. Otherwise ye may grow grey in your sins. Ye may 
say to your souls, " Peace, peace ! " while there is no peace ! 
Ye may sleep on, and dream ye are in the way to heaven, till 
ye awake in everlasting fire. 

21. But whether ye will hear, or whether ye will forbear, 
we, by the grace of God, hold on our way : being ourselves still 
members of the Church of England, as we were from the begin- 
ning, but receiving all that love God in every Church, as our 
brother and sister and mother. And in order to their union 
with us we require no unity in opinions, or in modes of worship, 
but barely that they fear God and work righteousness, as was 
observed. Now this is utterly a new thing, unheard of in any 
other Christian Community. In what Church or Congregation 


beside, throughout the Christian world, can members be 
admitted upon these terms, without any other conditions ? 
Point any such out, whoever can : I know none in Europe, 
Asia, Africa, or America ! This is the glory of the Methodists, 
and of them alone ! They are themselves no particular Sect 
or Party : but they receive those of all parties who endeavour 
to do justly, and love mercy, and walk humbly with their God. 

SAMUEL HORSLEY (1733-1800) 

Messrs. Overton and Relton, in their history of the Enghsh 
Church in the eighteenth century, speak of Samuel Horsley 
— successively Bishop of St, David's, Rochester and St. Asaph 
— as a "great divine," a "giant," whose writings against 
Priestley in defence of the Catholic doctrine of the Holy 
Trinity are " masterpieces." " His works are models of 
English composition, pure and stately in style, irrefragable in 
argument, sarcastic, but never scurrilous. His sermons and 
his speeches in the House of Lords are equally conspicuous for 
their powerful reasoning and admirable Enghsh. And yet 
Horsley is forgotten." 

Not forgotten. But his reputation has certainly been 
eclipsed since Coleridge spoke of him as " the one red leaf, the 
last of its clan, with relation to the learned teachers of our 
Church," and Isaac Milner styled him " the first episcopal 
authority, if learning, wisdom and knowledge of the Scriptures 
be any foundation for authority," or John Milner, the Roman 
Catholic historian, described him as " the light and glory of 
the Established Church." 

Horsley is one of the divines who carried on the Apostolical 
and anti-Erastian tradition through the eighteenth century. 
" To be a High Churchman," he said, in a charge to the clergy 
of St. David's, " God forbid that this should ever cease to be 
my publick pretension, my pride, my glory ! My reverend 
brethren, we must be content to be High Churchmen or we 
cannot be Churchmen at all. For he who thinks of God's 
ministers as the mere servants of the State is out of the Church 
— severed from it by a kind of self-excommunication." The 
true High Churchman is " an upholder of the spiritual authority 
of the priesthood," though not " a bigot to its secular rights." 
He adds : " We are more than mere hired servants of the 


SAMUEL HORSLEY (1733-1800) 181 

State or laity." Charging the clergy of his Rochester diocese 
in the closing century, he lamented that "the Festivals and 
Fasts of the Church are gone too much into oblivion and 
neglect." Even in the smallest village church the Feast of 
Christmas and the Fasts of Ash Wednesday and Good Friday 
ought to be observed, while in bigger places even more than 
this should be expected. On the last Easter Day of the 
century Bishop Tomline tells us that the communicants at 
St. Paul's cathedral numbered six. To be sure, the city 
churches still had good Sunday congregations. * 

Bishop Horsley, it must however be added, condoned 
clerical non-residence, observing that " many non-residents 
are promoting the general cause of Christianity, and perhaps 
doing better service, than if they confined themselves to the 
ordinary labours of the ministry." Paley, who was of a different 
school, had suggested pastoral ministration to the parishioners 
from a distance by means of tracts ! Horsley also deprecated 
Indian missions, and was alarmed by the Sunday school 
movement, finding " much ground for suspicion that sedition 
and atheism are the real objects of these institutions rather 
than rehgion." It should be said that Sunday schools at the 
beginning were not all of the Mrs. Trimmer type and were 
hardly the colourless things they are now — the coming French 
Revolution was drawing all things into its orbit. The 
late Bishop of Salisbury has mentioned the tendency of 
philanthropic, but especially temperance, movements in 
Sweden towards irreligion. ^ Bishop Horsley was at any rate an 
active and conscientious Chief Pastor, a powerful defender of 
the Faith at a time when thoughtful men feared the total dis- 
appearance of Christianity. He almost joined hands with the 
Nonjurors on one side and the Tractarians on the other, though 
neither would have relished his attachment, perhaps rather 

* It is fair also to remember what Sydney Smith says : — " I have very often 
counted in the afternoon of week-days in St. Paul's 150 people, and on 
Sundays it is full to suffocation." (Third Letter to Archdeacon Sivgleton.) 

* The National Church of Sweden, pp. 380, 3S1 


conventional, to " the glorious epoch of the [English] 

The follo'uing sermon — which stands last in the pubhshed 
collection — is notable for the circumstances under which it was 
preached and for the burst of impassioned eloquence at its 
close, at which the prelacy and nobility of England, before 
whom it was dehvered, sprang to their feet and remained 
standing to the end. It was the Thirtieth of January, 1793 ; 
and, if the observance of the day on which a King of England 
was decapitated in front of his own palace was lapsing after 
a century and a half into something of a pious form, it could be 
no form on this occasion, for it was scarcely a week since the 
awful news had come of the death of the King of France under 
the guillotine in front of the Tuilleries. 

Horsley had come to be looked on as one of the leaders of 
national feehng, and during the French war was both vehe- 
mently applauded and vehemently attacked for his attitude. 
In 1799, in a critical discussion of the Woe of Ethiopia in 
Isaiah xviii, he wrote : — " I see nothing in the progress of the 
French arms which any nation, fearing God and worshipping 
the Son, should fear to resist. I see everything that should 
rouse all Christendom to a vigorous confederate resistance. 
I see everything that should excite this country in particular 
to resist, and to take the lead in a confederacy of resistance, 
by all means which policy can suggest, and the valour and 
opulence of a great nation can supply." 

The Death of Louis XVI 

Preached before the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, January 30, 1793, 
being the Anniversary of the Martyrdom of King Charles the First. 

Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. — Romans xiii, 1. 

The freedom of dispute in which for several years past it hath 
been the folly in this country to indulge, upon matters of such 
high importance as the origin of government and the authority 
of sovereigns ; the futility of the principles which the assertors, 
as they have been deemed, of the natural rights of men allege 


as the foundation of that semblance of power which they 
would be thought willing to leave in the hands of the supreme 
magistrate (principles rather calculated to palliate sedition 
than to promote the peace of society and add to the security 
of government) — this forwardness to dispute about the limits 
of the sovereign's power, and the extent of the people's rights, 
with this evident desire to set civil authority upon a foundation 
on which it cannot stand secure, argues, it should seem, that 
something is forgotten among the writers who have presumed 
to treat these curious questions, and among those talkers 
who, with little knowledge or reflexion of their own, think 
they talk safely after so high authorities. It surely is forgotten 
that, whatever praise may be due to the philosophers of the 
heathen world, who, in order to settle, not to confound, the 
principles of human conduct, set themselves to investigate 
the source of the obligations of morality and law, the 
Christian is possessed of a written rule of conduct delivered 
from on high, which is treated with prophane contempt if refer- 
ence be not had to it upon all questions of duty, or if its maxims 
are tortured from their natural and obvious sense. 

From these records it appears that the Providence of God 
was careful to give a beginning to the human race in that 
particular way which might for ever bar the existence of the 
whole or of any large portion of mankind in that state which 
hath been called the state of nature. Mankind from the 
beginning never existed otherwise than in society and under 
government : whence follows this important consequence, — 
that to build the authority of princes, or of the chief magis- 
trate under whatever denomination, upon any compact or 
agreement between the individuals of a miiltitude living 
previously in the state of nature, is in truth to build a reality 
upon a fiction. 

But this absurdity is in truth but the least part of the 
mischief which this ill-conceived theory draws after it. Had 
what is called the state of nature, — though a thing so unnatural 
hath little title to the name, — but had this state been in fact 
the primeval condition of mankind : that is, had the world 
been at first peopled with a multitude of individuals no other- 
wise related than as they had partaken of the same internal 
nature and carried the same external form — without distinct 
property, yet all possessing equal right to what they might have 


strength or cunning to appropriate each to himself of the earth's 
common store ; without any governor, head or guardian, — 
no government could ever have been formed by any compact 
between the individuals of this multitude but what their children 
in the very next generation would have had full right to abolish, 
or any one or more of those children, even in opposition to the 
sense of the majority, with perfect innocence, though not 
without imprudence, might have disobeyed : insomuch that, 
if such compact be the true foundation of sovereign authority, 
the foundation is weaker than these republican theorists 
themselves conceive. 

The whole foundation of government, in their view of it, 
is laid in these two assumptions, — the first, that the will of a 
majority obliges the minority ; and the second, that the whole 
posterity may be bound by the act and deed of their progenitors. 
But both these rights — that of the many to bind the few, and 
that of the father to make a bargain that shall bind his unborn 
children, — both these rights, though sacred and incontrovertible 
in civil society, are yet of the number of those to which civil 
society itself gives birth, and out of society they could have 
no existence. And to make those civil rights and obliga- 
tions the parents of public authority which are indeed its 
offspring is strangely to confound causes and effects. 

The plain truth is this : the manner in which, as we are 
informed upon the authority of God himself, God gave a 
beginning to the world evidently leads to this conclusion — 
namely, that civil society, which always implies government, 
is the condition to which God originally destined man : whence, 
the obligation on the citizen to submit to government is an 
immediate result from that first principle of religious duty 
which requires that man conform himself, as far as in him lies, 
with the will and purpose of his Maker. The governments 
which now are have arisen not from a previous state of no 
government, falsely called the state of nature, but from that 
original government under which the first generations of men 
were brought into existence, variously changed and modified, 
in a long course of ages, under the wise direction of God's 
overruling providence, to suit the various climates of the world, 
and the infinitely varied manners and conditions of its inhabi- 
tants. And the principle of subjection is not that principle 
of common honesty which binds a man to his own engagements^ 


much less that principle of political honesty which binds the 
child to the ancestor's engagements ; but a conscientious 
submission to the will of God. 

I must observe that the principles which I advance ascribe 
no greater sanctity to monarchy than to any other form of 
estabUshed government ; nor do they at all involve that 
exploded notion that all or any of the present sovereigns of 
the earth hold their sovereignty by virtue of such immediate 
or implied nomination on the part of God, of themselves 
personally, or of the stocks from which they are descended, 
as might confer an endless, indefeasible right upon the posterity 
of the persons named. In contending that government was 
coeval with mankind, it will readily be admitted that all the 
particular forms of government which now exist are the work 
of human pohcy, under the control of God's general over- 
ruhng providence ; that the Israehtes were the only people 
upon earth whose form of government was of express Divine 
institution, and their kings the only monarchs who ever reigned 
by an indefeasible divine title. But it is contended that all 
government is in such sort of Divine institution that, be the 
form of any particular government what it may, the submission 
of the individual is a principal branch of that religious duty 
which each man owes to God ; it is contended that the state 
of mankind was never such that it was free to any man or to 
any number of men to choose for themselves whether they 
would live subject to government and united to society, or 
altogether free and unconnected. 

It is true that in the world, taken as it now is and hath 
been for many ages, cases happen in which the sovereign power 
is conferred by the act of the people, and in which that act 
alone can give the sovereign a just title. The condition of a 
people, in these emergencies, bears no resemblance or analogy 
to that anarchy which hath been called the state of nature ; 
the people become not in these situations of government what 
they would be in that state, a mere multitude ; they are a 
society — not dissolved, but in danger of dissolution ; and, by 
the great law of self-preservation, inherent in the body politick 
no less than in the solitary animal, a society so situated hath a 
right to use the best means for its own preservation and per- 
petuity. A people therefore in these circumstances hath a 
right, which a mere multitude unassociated could never have, 


of appointing, by the consent of the majority, for themselves 
and their posterity, a new head : and it will readily be admitted 
that, of all sovereigns, none reign by so fair and just a title as 
those who can derive their claim from such publick act of the 
nation which they govern. But it is no just inference that the 
obligation upon the private citizen to submit himself to the 
authority thus raised arises wholly from the act of the people 
conferring it, or from their compact with the person on whom 
it is conferred. In all these cases, the act of the people is only 
the means which Providence employs to advance the new 
sovereign to his station ; the obligation to obedience proceeds 
secondarily only from the act of man, but primarily from the 
will of God, who hath appointed civil life for man's condition, 
and requires the citizen's submission to the sovereign whom 
his providence shall by whatever means set over him. 

Thus, in our own country, at the glorious epoch of the 
Revolution, the famous Act of Settlement was the means 
which Providence employed to place the British sceptre in the 
hands which now wield it. That statute is confessedly the 
sole foundation of the sovereign's title ; nor can any future 
sovereign have a just title to the crown, the law continuing 
as it is, whose claim stands not upon that ground. Yet it is 
not merely by virtue of that act that the subject's allegiance 
is due to him whose claim is founded on it. In this 
country, how many thousands and ten thousands of the 
common people never heard of the Act of Settlement ! Of those 
to whom the name may be familiar, how many have never 
taken the pains to acquire any accurate knowledge of its con- 
tents ! Yet not one of these is absolved from his allegiance 
by his ignorance of his sovereign's title. Where then shall we 
find that general principle that binds the duty of allegiance 
equally on all, read or unread in the statute-book and in the 
history of their country ? Where shall we find it, but among 
those general rules of duty which proceed immediately from 
the will of the Creator, and have been impressed upon the 
conscience of every man by the original constitution of the 
world ? 

This divine right of the first magistrate in every polity to 
the citizen's obedience is not of that sort which it were high 
treason to claim for the sovereigns of this country. It is quite 
a distinct thing from the pretended divine right to the 


inheritance of the crown. It is a right which the most zealous 
repubhcans acknowledged to be divine, in former times, before 
republican zeal had ventured to espouse the interests of atheism. 
It is a right which in no country can be denied, without the 
highest of all treasons ; — the denial of it were treason against 
the paramount authority of God. 

These views of the authority of civil governours, as they are 
obviously suggested by the Mosaic history of the first ages, 
so they are confirmed by the precepts of the gospel ; — in which, 
if any thing is to be found clear, peremptory and unequivocal, 
it is the injunction of submission to the sovereign authority ; 
and, in monarchies, of loyalty to the person of the sovereign. 
" Let every soul," says the apostle in my text, " be subject 
to the higher powers." 

The word " powers " here signifies persons bearing power : 
any other meaning of it, whatever may be pretended, is excluded 
by the context. The text, indeed, had been better rendered — 
" Let every soul be subject to the sovereign powers." The 
word " sovereign " renders the exact meaning of that Greek 
word for which the Enghsh Bible in this place rather unhappily 
puts the comparative " higher " ; in another passage it is very 
properly rendered by a word equivalent to sovereign, by the 
word " supreme." " Let every soul be subject to the sovereign 
powers." The sovereignty particularly intended, in the imme- 
diate apphcation of the precept to those to whom the Epistle 
was addressed, was the sovereign authority of the Roman 
Emperor. Nero was at the time the possessor of that sove- 
reignty ; and the Apostle, in what he immediately subjoins to 
enforce his precept, seems to obviate an objection which he 
was well aware the example of Nero's tyranny might suggest. 
Such reasonings (saith the Apostle) are erroneous : no king, 
however he might use or abuse authority, ever reigned 
but by the appointment of God's providence. There is no such 
thing as power but from God ; to him, whatever powers, good 
or bad, are at any time subsisting in the world, are subordinate ; 
he has good ends of his own, not always to be foreseen by us, 
to be effected by the abuse of power, as by other partial evils ; 
and to his own secret purpose he directs the worst actions of 
tyrants, no less than the best of godly princes. Man's abuse, 
therefore, of his delegated authority is to be borne with resigna- 
tion, like any other of God's judgments. The opposition of 


the individual to the sovereign power is an opposition to God's 
providential arrangements ; and it is the more inexcusable, 
because the well-being of mankind is the general end for which 
government is obtained ; and this end of government, under 
all its abuses, is generally answered by it. For the good of 
government is perpetual and universal ; the mischiefs resulting 
from the abuse of power, temporary and partial : insomuch 
that in governments which are the worst administered the 
sovereign power, for the most part, is a terrour not to good works, 
but to the evil, and, upon the whole, far more beneficial than 
detrimental to the subject. But this general good of govern- 
ment cannot be secured upon any other terms than the sub- 
mission of the individual to what may be called its extraordinary 

Such is the general scope and tenour of the argument by 
which St. Paul enforces the duty of the private citizen's sub- 
jection to the sovereign authority. He never once mentions 
that god of the republican's idolatry, the consent of the 
ungoverned millions of mankind ; he represents the earthly 
sovereign as the vicegerent of God, accountable for misconduct 
to his heavenly Master, but entitled to obedience from the 

While thus we reprobate the doctrine of the first formation 
of government out of anarchy by a general consent, we confess 
— with thankfulness to the overruling providence of God — we 
confess and we maintain that in this country the king is 
under the obligation of an express contract with the people. 
I say, of an express contract. In every monarchy in which the 
will of the sovereign is in any degree subject (as more or less 
indeed it is in all) either to the control of custom or to a 
fixed rule of law, something of a compact is implied at least 
between the king and the nation ; for limitation of the sovereign 
power implies a mutual agreement, which hath fixed the limits : 
but in this country, the contract is not tacit, implied and 
vague ; it is explicit, patent and precise ; it is summarily 
expressed in the Coronation oath ; it is drawn out at length 
and in detail in the Great Charter and the corroborating 
statutes, in the Petition of Right, in the Habeas Corpus Act, 
in the Bill of Rights, and in the Act of Settlement. Nor shall 
we scruple to assert that our kings in the exercise of their 
sovereignty are held to the terms of this express and solemn 


stipulation ; which is the legal measure of their power and 
rule of their conduct. The consequence which some have 
attempted to deduce from these most certain premises we 
abominate and reject, as wicked and illegitimate — namely, 
that " our kings are the servants of the people ; and that it is 
the right of the people to cashier them for misconduct." Our 
ancestors are slandered — their wisdom is insulted — their virtue 
is defamed, when these seditious maxims are set forth as the 
principles on which the great business of the Revolution was 
conducted, or as the groundwork on which the noblest produc- 
tion of human reason, the wonderful fabric k of the British 
constitution, stands. 

Our constitution hath indeed effectually secured the 
monarch's performance of his engagements, — not by that 
clumsy contrivance of republican wit, the establishment of a 
court of judicature with authority to try his conduct and to 
punish his dehnquency ; not by that coarser expedient of 
modern levellers, a reference to the judgment and the sentence 
of the multitude — wise judgment, I ween, and righteous sen- 
tence ! — but by two peculiar provisions of a deep and subtle 
poHcy — the one in the form, the other in the principles of 
government ; which, in their joint operation, render the trans- 
gression of the covenant on the part of the monarch little less 
than a moral impossibiUty. The one is the judicious partition 
of the legislative authority between the King and the two 
houses of ParHament ; the other, the responsibiUty attaching 
upon the advisers and official servants of the Crown. 
Having thus excluded all probability of the event of a syste- 
matic abuse of royal power, or a dangerous exorbitance of 
prerogative, our constitution exempts her kings from the 
degrading necessity of being accountable to the subject ; she 
invests them with the high attribute of pohtical impeccabiUty ; 
she declares that wrong, in his publick capacity, a King of 
Great Britain cannot do ; and thus unites the most perfect 
security of the subject's liberty with the most absolute 
inviolability of the sacred person of the sovereign. 

Such is the British constitution — its basis, religion ; its 
end, hberty ; its principal means and safeguard of liberty, the 
majesty of the sovereign. In support of it the king is not more 
interested than the peasant. 

It was a signal instance of God's mercy, not imputing to the 


people of this land the atrocious deed of a desperate faction ; 
it was a signal instance of God's mercy that the goodly fabrick 
was not crushed in the middle of the last century, ere it had 
attained its finished perfection, by the phrensy of that phanatical 
banditti which took the life of the First Charles. In the 
madness and confusion which followed the shedding of that 
blood, our history holds forth an edifying example of the 
effects that are ever to be expected— in that example, it gives 
warning of the effects that ever are intended — by the dissemina- 
tion of those infernal maxims that kings are the servants of the 
people, punishable by their masters. The same lesson is con- 
firmed by the horrible example which the present hour exhibits, 
in the unparalleled misery of a neighbouring nation, once great 
in learning, arts, and arms, now torn by contending factions ; 
her government demolished — her altars overthrown — her first- 
born despoiled of their birth-right — her nobles degraded — her 
best citizens exiled — her riches, sacred and prophane, given up 
to the pillage of sacrilege and rapine — atheists directing her 
councils — desperadoes conducting her armies — wars of unjust 
and chimerical ambition consuming her youth — her granaries 
exhausted — her fields uncultivated — famine threatening her 
multitudes — her streets swarming with assassins, filled with 
violence, deluged with blood ! 

Is the picture frightful ? Is the misery extreme — the guilt 
horrid ? Alas ! these things were but the prelude of the 
tragedy : publick justice poisoned in its source, prophaned in 
the abuse of its most solemn forms to the foulest purposes — a 
monarch deliberately murdered ; a monarch, whose only crime 
it was that he inherited a sceptre the thirty-second of his 
illustrious stock, butchered on a publick scaffold, after the 
mockery of arraignment, trial, sentence — butchered without 
the merciful formalities of the vilest malefactor's execution — 
the sad privilege of a last farewell to the surrounding populace 
refused — not the pause of a moment allowed for devotion — 
honourable interment denied to the corpse — the royal widow's 
anguish imbittered by the rigour of a close imprisonment, 
with hope indeed, at no great distance, of release, of such 
release as hath been given to her lord ! 

This foul murder, and these barbarities, have filled the 
measure of the guilt and infamy of France. O my country ! 
read the horrour of thy o\vn deed in this recent heightened 


imitation ! Lament and weep that this black French treason 
should have found its example in the crime of thy unnatural 
sons ! Our contrition for our guilt that stained our land — 
our gratitude to God, whose mercy so soon restored our church 
and monarchy — our contrition for our own crime, and our 
gratitude for God's unspeakable mercy, will be best expressed 
by us all by setting the example of a dutiful submission to 
government in our own conduct, and by inculcating upon our 
children and dependants a loyal attachment to a king who 
hath ever sought his own glory in the virtue and prosperity 
of his people, and administers justice with an even, firm and 
gentle hand, — a king who, in many pubUc acts, hath testified 
his affection for the free constitution of this country, — a king, 
of whom, or of the princes issued from his loins and trained 
by his example, it were injurious to harbour a suspicion that 
they will ever be inclined to use their power to any other end 
than for the support of publick hberty. Let us remember that 
a conscientious submission to the sovereign power is, no less 
than brotherly love, a distinctive badge of Christ's disciples. 
Blessed be God, in the Church of England both those marks of 
genuine Christianity have ever been conspicuous. Perhaps 
in the exercise of brotherly love it is the amiable infirmity of 
Englishmen to be too easy to admit the claim of a spiritual 
kindred : the times compel me to remark that brotherly love 
embraces only brethren ; the term of holy brotherhood is 
prophaned by an indiscriminate application. We ought to 
mark those who cause divisions and offences. Nice scruples 
about external forms, and differences of opinion upon contro- 
vertible points, cannot but take place among the best Chris- 
tians, and dissolve not the fraternal tie : none indeed, at this 
season, are more entitled to our offices of love than those with 
whom the difference is wide, in points of doctrine, discipline 
and external rites — those venerable exiles, the prelates and 
clergy of the fallen church of France, endeared to us by the 
edifying example they exhibit of patient suffering for con- 
science' sake. But if any enjoying the blessings of the British 
government, living under the protection of its free constitution 
and its equal laws, have dared to avow the wicked sentiment 
that this day of national contrition, this rueful day of guilt and 
shame, " is a proud day for England, to be remembered as 
such by the latest posterity of freemen," with such persons it is 


meet that we abjure all brotherhood. Their spot is not the 
spot of our family ; they have no claim upon our brotherly 
affection. Upon our charity they have indeed a claim. Miser- 
able men ! " they are in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of 
iniquity " : it is our duty to pray God, if perhaps the thought 
of their hearts may be forgiven them. 

SYDNEY SMITH (1771-1845) 

Macaulay described Sydney Smith as the greatest master of 
ridicule since Swift, and wit is a weapon which some of the 
most impressive preachers have employed. Smith's astonishing 
gift of richly fantastic and pungently argumentative jocosity, 
however, though nearly always directed to a serious purpose, 
could hardly find a place in his sermons, which exhibit another 
side of his style, that of the plain, direct, but incisive, man of 
the world. He was often a buffoon, but not a pulpit buffoon ; 
often coarse, but not there. The sermon here given is described 
by Mr. George Russell as a "noble sermon, a remarkably fine 
instance of Sydney Smith's rhetorical manner. "^ Dugald Stewart 
said that Smith's preaching gave him " a thrilling sensation of 
subhmity never before awakened by any oratory." It strikes 
us as fresh, masculine and racy, rather than sublime. There 
was nothing of the rapt and ghostly prophet, though there was 
much of the eager-breasted reformer, in this ecclesiastic 
malgre lui, who regarded Holy Orders avowedly as a profession, 
a steward of divine mysteries as merely a human being in a 
surplice, and the Church of God as a subordinate branch of 
the Civil Service. He scoffed at the silly ways of Methodists — 
" a nest of consecrated cobblers " — of the " Clapham Sect," 
and of posturing Puseyites, being especially scandalized at 
the progress of these last " foolish people." The religion of 
the majority of Christians — for whose civil rights he was 
vigorously contending — was " CathoUc nonsense " and the 
" superstitious mummery of blockheads." But his loudest 
gibes were kept for men — like Carey — who had given up home 
and ease to carry Christ's message to His other sheep not of 
this fold, rejoicing derisively when they were harried by 
governmental decree out of India. Sydney Smith declared in 

1 Sydney Smith, " English Men of Letters " series, p. 154. 

13— (2433) 


a sermon on the " Character and Genius of the Christian 
Rehgion " that " the Gospel has no enthusiasm." He was not 
using the word, of course, in its sHpshod modern meaning, but 
in that of mystical fervour. The mystical was to Sydney 
Smith a sealed book, a thing to be feared, hated, mocked at. 
The past he looked upon " as so much dirty linen," to be thrown 
on one side. Among the things of the past are Bethlehem and 
Calvary, and that doctrine of the Cross which Mr. Russell is 
constrained to remark seems to have been " quite alien from 
Sydney Smith's system of religion." Some of his sayings are 
grossly profane — as when he talks of " chewing a spiritual 
nature in crumpets." But Mr. Russell will find that it is holy 
water, not the laver of regeneration, which he describes as the 
" sanctified contents of the pump." 

On the other hand, Sydney Smith devoted every power he 
possessed to a cause which he believed had the Supreme 
Being behind it. " If," he said, " you ask me who excites me, 
I answer you, it is that Judge who stirs good thoughts in honest 
hearts, under whose warrant I impeach the wrong and by 
whose help I hope to chastise it." " May the same God," he 
wrote, " take this unworthy life away whenever I shrink from 
the contempt and misrepresentation to which my duty shall 
call me to submit." He was not conscientiously and inten- 
tionally heterodox, and told Jeffrey that he would write no 
more for the Edinburgh Review if it continued to " encourage 
infidel and anti-Christian principles." He would have accepted 
any English bishoprick offered to him, and considered the 
Whigs, whom he had served so ably, were shabby and un- 
grateful in only giving him a " snug " canonry and ;^2,000 a 
year. Noluit non episcopari. But he would have declined to 
become the angel of the Church of Laodicea. Smith made no 
pretences to asceticism or spirituality, loving " soft beds, good 
dinners and fine linen," and said honestly, " I have been 
happier every guinea I have gained." He defended (and 
practised) clerical non-residence and pluralities, objected to the 

SYDNEY SMITH (1771-1845) 195 

nave of St. Paul's being open to the public free of charge, 
and upheld a lottery system of blanks and prizes for eccle- 
siastical preferment in a modern Establishment. In many 
ways he was a frank worldling, as weU as a professed Philistine. 
Bishop Horsley's complaint that Christian priests whose office 
was to publish the word of reconciliation through the Blood of 
Christ were content to deliver moral essays applied to Sydney 
Smith, though he was no " ape of Epictetus." But his Geor- 
gianism was at least not of the old lax and lurdane type. 
He told Gladstone, in 1835, " Whenever you meet a clergyman 
of my age, you may be sure he is a bad clergyman." And he 
justly resented Bishop Moule's remark that he had got his 
Canonry, not by piety and learning, but by scoffing and jesting. 
His daughter. Lady Holland, says that " on entering the 
pulpit the calm dignity of his eye, mien and voice made one 
feel that he was indeed, and felt himself to be, ' the pastor 
standing between our God and His people,' to teach His laws, 
to declare His judgments, and to proclaim His mercies." 

Still, it was something worse than unprofessionalism which 
from the pulpit of St. Paul's could assign the Nunc Dimittis — 
as is done at the end of the subjoined sermon — to " the 
Psalmist." In the third edition, which lies before me, the 
mistake stands uncorrected. Croker,. in the Quarterly, 
attacking the lecturing tone of the sermon, asked : " What 
can we think of the fitness of a man to address his Queen and 
country in this dogmatical strain who does not know the New 
Testament from the Old, the Psalms from the Gospel, David 
from Simeon ? " In 1837 the Ecclesiastical Commission had 
lately come into being, and was threatening Sydney Smith's 
ideal of plums and unbeneficed hopings. " What cathedral 
are we pulling down to-day ? " was said to be the standing 
question at its meetings. It is amusing some months later to 
find him exclaiming — " What a prelude for the young Queen's 
coronation ! What a medal for the august ceremony : the 
fallen Gothic buildings on one side of the gold, on the other 


* Victoria Ecclesiae Victrix ' ! And then, when she is full of 
noble devices, and of all sorts enchantingly beloved, and amid 
the solemn swell of music, when her heart beats happily and 
her eyes look majesty, she turns them on the degraded minis- 
ters of the Gospel, and shudders to see she is stalking to the 
throne of her Protestant ancestors over the broken altars of 

It has interested me to turn from Sydney Smith's sermon on 
the Accession of Queen Victoria to one preached sixty-three 
years later in the same place, by another brilliant Canon of 
St. Paul's, Henry Scott Holland, also a social reformer, on the 
Patriot Queen's death. One passage, looking back to 1837, 
may be here quoted — could two styles be more unlike ? 

" A girl's vow ! Never before has so great an achievement 
on the high levels of history been won by means so simple and 
so pure. If we but think for a moment to what abasement 
and contempt the Crown of England had sunk when she under- 
took its responsibilities ! No one knew what was coming, 
but everyone feared the worst. Every institution seemed to 
be tottering. No reverence shielded conventional traditions. 
A senile decay had crept over the honour of government. 
Under men's feet were felt the unknown volcanic tremors of 
revolutionary panic. And yet, remember, it was the great 
hour of our Imperial expansion which was opening ; and, by 
a terrible fatality, at the centre of the Empire, there where 
strength was vitally needed to secure coherence and unity of 
sentiment aU over the vast outgrowth, the throne had exhibited 
a melancholy succession of madness and vice and foUy. And 
it was at such a moment of dreadful menace, when men's 
hearts were failing them for fear and for looking to those things 
that are coming on the earth, that there stepped out into the 
open arena to challenge England's fate and her own, an untried, 
inexperienced, innocent child of eighteen. And in the long 
years which have intervened she made the Throne, which 
was then tottering to its fall in ignominy and scorn, the 



most powerful of living institutions, the soul of a great 
Empire." ^ 

This sermon fitly follows the tragic one before it. 
A Patriot Queen 

Oh King, thy Kingdom is departed from thee. — Daniel iv, 31. 

I do not think I am getting out of the fair line of duty of a 
Minister of the Gospel if, at the beginning of a new reign, I 
take a short review of the moral and religious state of the 
country, and point out what those topics are which deserve 
the most serious consideration of a wise and a Christian 

The death of a King is always an awful lesson to mankind ; 
and it produces a more solemn pause, and creates more profound 
reflexion, than the best lessons of the best teachers. 

From the throne to the tomb — wealth, splendour, flattery, 
all gone ! The look of favour, the voice of power, no more ; 
the deserted palace, the wretched monarch on his funeral 
bier, the mourners ready, the dismal march of death prepared. 
Who are we, and what are we ? And for what has God made us ? 
And why are we doomed to this frail and unquiet existence ? 
Who does not feel all this ? In whose heart does it not provoke 
appeal to, and dependence on, God ? Before whose eyes does 
it not bring the foUy and the nothingness of all things human ? 

But a good King must not go to his grave without that 
reverence from the people which his virtues deserved. And 
I will state to you what those virtues were, state it to you 
honestly and fairly ; for I should heartily despise myself if 
from this chair of truth I could utter one word of panegyric 
of the great men of the earth which I could not aver before the 
throne of God. 

The late Monarch, whose loss we have to deplore, was 
sincere and honest in his political relations ; he put his trust 
reaUy where he put his trust ostensibly, and did not attempt 
to undermine, by secret means, those to whom he trusted 
publicly the conduct of affairs. And I must beg to remind 
you that no vice and no virtue are indifferent in a monarch ; 
human beings are very imitative ; there is a fashion in the 
higher qualities of our minds, as there is in the lesser consider- 
ations of life. It is by no means indifferent to the morals of 

^ " In Memoriam Queen Victoria " ; printed first in Personal Studies. 


the people at large whether a tricking, perfidious King is 
placed on the throne of these realms, or whether the sceptre 
is swayed by one of plain and manly character, walking ever in 
a straight line, on the firm ground of truth, under the searching 
eye of God. 

The late King was of a sweet and Christian disposition ; 
he did not treasure up little animosities, and indulge in vindic- 
tive feelings ; he had no enemies but the enemies of the 
country ; he did not make the memory of a King a fountain 
of wrath ; the feelings of the individual (where they required 
any controul) were in perfect subjection to the just conception 
he had formed of his high duties ; and every one near him 
found it was a government of principle, and not of temper, 
not of caprice, not of malice couching in high places and 
watching an opportunity of springing on its victim. 

Our late Monarch had the good nature of Christianity ; he 
loved the happiness of all the individuals about him, and never 
lost an opportunity of promoting it ; and where the heart is 
good, and the mind active, and the means ample, this makes 
a luminous and beautiful life, which gladdens the nations, 
and leads them, and turns men to the exercise of virtue, and 
the great work of Salvation. 

We may honestly say of our late Sovereign that he loved his 
country, and was sensibly alive to its glory and its happiness. 
When he entered into his palaces he did not say, " All this is 
my birthright : I am entitled to it — it is my due — how can I 
gain more splendour ? how can I increase all the pleasures of 
the senses ? " but he looked upon it all as a memorial that he 
was to repay by example, by attention, and by watchfulness 
over the public interests, the affectionate and lavish expenditure 
of his subjects ; and this was not a decision of reason, but a 
feeling which hurried him away. Whenever it was pointed out 
to him that England could be made more rich, or more happy, 
or rise higher in the scale of nations, or be better guided in the 
straight path of the Christian faith, on all such occasions he 
rose above himself ; there was a warmth and a truth and an 
honesty which it was impossible to mistake ; the gates of his 
heart were flung open, and that heart throbbed and beat for 
the land which his ancestors had rescued from slavery and 
governed with justice. But he is gone — and let fools praise 
conquerors, and say the great Napoleon pulled down this 


kingdom and destroyed that army, we will thank God for a 
King who has derived his quiet glory from the peace of his 
realm, and who has founded his own happiness upon the 
happiness of his people. 

But the world passes on, and a new order of things arises. 
Let us take a short view of those duties which devolve upon 
the young Queen whom Providence has placed over us — what 
ideas she ought to form of her duties, and on what points she 
should endeavour to place the glories of her reign. 

First and foremost, I think, the new Queen should bend her 
mind to the very serious consideration of educating the people. 
Of the importance of this I think no reasonable doubt can exist ; 
it does not in its effects keep pace with the exaggerated expec- 
tations of its injudicious advocates, but it presents the best 
chance of national improvement. 

Reading and writing are mere increase of power. They may 
be turned, I admit, to a good or a bad purpose ; but for several 
years of his life the child is in your hands, and you may give 
to that power what bias you please : thou shalt not kill — 
thou shalt not steal — thou shalt not bear false witness ; — by 
how many fables, by how much poetry, by how many beautiful 
aids of imagination, may not the fine morality of the Sacred 
Scriptures be engraven on the minds of the young ? I believe 
the arm of the assassin may be often stayed by the lessons of 
his early life. When I see the village school, and the tattered 
scholars, and the aged master or mistress teaching the 
mechanical art of reading or writing, and thinking that they 
are teaching that alone, I feel that the aged instructor is 
protecting life, insuring property, fencing the altar, guarding 
the throne, giving space and liberty to all the fine powers of 
man, and lifting him up to his own place in the order of 

There are, I am sorry to say, many countries in Europe which 
have taken the lead of England in the great business of educa- 
tion, and it is a thoroughly commendable and legitimate object 
of ambition in a Sovereign to overtake them. The names, 
too, of malefactors, and the nature of their crimes, are sub- 
jected to the Sovereign ; — how is it possible that a Sovereign, 
with the fine feelings of youth, and with all the gentleness of 
her sex, should not ask herself, whether the human being 
whom she dooms to death, or at least does not rescue from 


death, has been properly warned in early youth of the horrors 
of that crime for which his life is forfeited ? " Did he ever 
receive any education at all ? — did a father and mother watch 
over him ? — was he brought to places of worship ? — was the 
Word of God explained to him ? — was the book of knowledge 
opened to him ? Or am I, the fountain of mercy, the nursing- 
mother of my people, to send a forsaken wretch from the 
streets to the scaffold, and to prevent by unprincipled cruelty 
the evils of unprincipled neglect ? " 

Many of the objections found against the general education 
of the people are utterly untenable. Where all are educated, 
education cannot be a source of distinction, and a subject for 
pride. The great source of labour is want ; and as long as 
the necessities of life call for labour labour is sure to be 
suppUed. All these fears are foolish and imaginary ; the great 
use and the great importance of education properly conducted 
is, that it creates a great bias in favour of virtue and religion 
at a period of life when the mind is open to all the impressions 
which superior wisdom may choose to affix upon it ; the sum 
and mass of these tendencies and inclinations make a good and 
virtuous people, and draw down upon us the blessing and 
protection of Almighty God. 

A second great object which I hope will be impressed upon 
the mind of this Royal Lady is a rooted horror of war — an 
earnest and passionate desire to keep her people in a state of 
profound peace. The greatest curse which can be entailed 
upon mankind is a state of war. All the atrocious crimes 
committed in years of peace, all that is spent in peace by the 
secret corruptions, or by the thoughtless extravagance, of 
nations, are mere trifles compared with the gigantic evils which 
stalk over the world in a state of war. God is forgotten in war 
— every principle of Christian charity trampled upon — human 
labour destroyed — human industry extinguished. You see 
the son and the husband and the brother dying miserably 
in distant lands — you see the waste of human affections — 
you see the breaking of human hearts — you hear the shrieks 
of widows and children after the battle — and you walk over 
the mangled bodies of the wounded calling for death. I would 
say to that Royal child. Worship God, by loving peace. It is 
not your humanity to pity a beggar by giving him food or 
raiment — I can do that ; that is the charity of the humble. 


and the unknown. Widen you your heart for the more expanded 
miseries of mankind — pity the mothers of the peasantry who 
see their sons torn away from their famihes — pity your poor 
subjects crowded into hospitals, and caUing in their last 
breath upon their distant country and their young Queen — 
pity the stupid, frantic folly of human beings who are always 
ready to tear each other to pieces, and to deluge the earth with 
each other's blood ; this is your extended humanity, and this 
the great field of your compassion. Extinguish in your heart 
the fiendish love of military glory, from which your sex does 
not necessarily exempt you, and to which the wickedness of 
flatterers may urge you. Say upon your death-bed, " I have 
made few orphans in my reign — I have made few widows — 
my object has been peace. I have used all the weight of my 
character, and all the power of my situation, to check the 
irascible passions of mankind, and to turn them to the arts 
of honest industry : this has been the Christianity of my 
throne, and this the gospel of my sceptre ; in this way I have 
strove to worship my Redeemer and my Judge." 

I would add (if any addition were wanted as a part of the 
lesson to youthful royalty) the utter folly of all wars of ambi- 
tion, where the object sought for — if attained at all — is com- 
monly attained at manifold its real value, and often wrested, 
after short enjoyment, from its possessor, by the combined 
indignation and just vengeance of the other nations of the 
world. It is aU misery, and folly, and impiety, and cruelty. 
The atrocities, the horrors and disgusts of war have never 
been half enough insisted upon by the teachers of the people ; 
but the worst of evils and the greatest of foUies have been 
varnished over with specious names, and the gigantic robbers 
and murderers of the world have been holden up, for their 
imitation, to the weak eyes of youth. May honest counsellors 
keep this poison from the mind of the young Queen. May 
she love what God bids, and do what makes men happy ! 

I hope the Queen will love the National Church, and protect 
it ; but it must be impressed upon her mind that every sect 
of Christians have as perfect right to the free exercise of their 
worship as the Church itself — that there must be no invasion of 
the privileges of other sects, and no contemptuous disrespect 
of their feehngs — that the altar is the very ark and citadel of 


Some persons represent old age as miserable, because it 
brings with it the pains and infirmities of the body ; but what 
gratification to the mind may not old age bring with it in this 
country of wise and rational improvement ? I have Uved to 
see the immense improvements of the Church of England — 
all its powers of persecution destroyed, its monopoly of civil 
offices expunged from the book of the law, and aU its unjust 
and exclusive immunities levelled to the ground. The Church 
of England is now a rational object of love and admiration — 
it is perfectly compatible with civil freedom — it is an institu- 
tion for worshipping God, and not a cover for gratifying secular 
insolence, and ministering to secular ambition. It wiU be the 
duty of those to whom the sacred trust of instructing our 
youthful Queen is intrusted to lead her attention to these 
great improvements in our religious establishment ; and to 
show to her how possible, and how wise, it is to render the solid 
advantages of a national Church compatible with the civil 
rights of those who cannot assent to its doctrines. 

Then again, our youthful Ruler must be very slow to believe 
all the exaggerated and violent abuse which religious sects 
indulge in against each other. She wiU find, for instance, that 
the Catholics, the great object of our horror and aversion, 
have (mistaken as they are) a great deal more to say in defence 
of their tenets than those imagine who indulge more in the 
luxury of invective than in the labour of inquiry — she will 
find in that sect, men as enlightened, talents as splendid, and 
probity as firm, as in our own Church ; and she will soon learn 
to appreciate, at its just value, that exaggerated hatred of 
sects which paints the Catholic faith (the religion of two- 
thirds of Europe) as utterly incompatible with the safety, 
peace and order of the world. 

It will be a sad vexation to all loyal hearts, and to all ration- 
ally pious minds, if our Sovereign should fall into the common 
error of mistaking fanaticism for religion, and in this way 
fling an air of discredit upon real devotion. It is, I am afraid, 
unquestionably the fault of the age, her youth and her sex 
do not make it more improbable, and the warmest efforts of 
that description of persons will not be wanting to gain over 
a convert so illustrious, and so important. Should this take 
place, the consequences will be serious and distressing — the 
land will be inundated with hypocrisy — absurdity will be heaped 


upon absurdity — there will be a race of folly and extravagance 
for royal favour, and he who is farthest from reason will make 
the nearest approach to distinction : and then follow the usual 
consequences — a weariness and disgust of rehgion itself, and 
the foundation laid for an age of impiety and infidehty. Those, 
then, to whom these matters are delegated will watch carefully 
over every sign of this excess, and guard from the mischievous 
intemperance of enthusiasm those feelings, and that under- 
standing, the healthy state of which bears so strongly and 
intimately upon the happiness of a whole people. 

Though I deprecate the bad effects of fanaticism, I earnestly 
pray that our young Sovereign may evince herself to be a 
person of deep religious feeling : what other cure has she for 
all the arrogance and vanity which her exalted position must 
engender ? for all the flattery and falsehood with which she 
must be surroimded ? for all the soul-corrupting homage with 
which she is met at every moment of her existence ? what other 
cure than to cast herself down in darkness and solitude before 
God — to say that she is dust and ashes — and to call down the 
piety of the Almighty upon her difficult and dangerous hfe ? 
This is the antidote of kings against the slavery and the base- 
ness which surround them : they should think often of death, 
and the folly and nothingness of the world, and they should 
humble their souls before the Master of masters, and the King 
of kings ; praying to Heaven for wisdom, and calm reflexion, 
and for that spirit of Christian gentleness which exalts command 
in an empire of justice, and turns obedience into a service of 

A wise man struggling with adversity is said by some heathen 
writer to be a spectacle on which the gods might look down 
with pleasure : but where is there a finer moral and religious 
picture, or one more deserving of Divine favour, than that of 
which, perhaps, we are now beginning to enjoy the blessed 
reality ? 

A young Queen, at that period of life which is commonly given 
up to frivolous amusement, sees at once the great principles 
by which she should be guided, and steps at once into the 
great duties of her station. The importance of educating the 
lower orders of the people is never absent from her mind ; she 
takes up this principle at the beginning of her life, and in all 
the change of servants, and in all the struggle of parties, looks 


to it as a source of permanent improvement. A great object 
of her affections is the preservation of peace ; she regards a 
state of war as the greatest of all human evils ; thinks that the 
lust of conquest is not a glory, but a bad crime ; despises the 
folly and miscalculations of war, and is wilhng to sacrifice 
every thing to peace but the clear honour of her land. 

The patriot Queen, whom I am painting, reverences the 
National Church — frequents its worship, and regulates her 
faith by its precepts ; but she withstands the encroachments, 
and keeps down the ambition, natural to establishments, and 
by rendering the privileges of the Church compatible with the 
civil freedom of all sects, confers strength upon, and adds 
duration to, that wise and magnificent institution. And then 
this youthful Monarch, profoundly, but wisely rehgious, dis- 
daining hypocrisy, and far above the childish follies of false 
piety, casts herself upon God, and seeks from the Gospel of 
his blessed Son a path for her steps, and a comfort for her soul. 
Here is a picture which warms every English heart, and would 
bring all this congregation upon their bended knees before 
Almighty God to pray it may be reahsed. What limits to the 
glory and happiness of our native land, if the Creator should 
in his mercy have placed in the heart of this Royal woman 
the rudiments of wisdom and mercy ; and if, giving them time 
to expand, and to bless our children's children with her good- 
ness. He should grant to her a long sojourning upon earth, 
and leave her to reign over us till she is well stricken in years ? 
What glory ! what happiness ! what joy ! what bounty of 
God ! I of course can only expect to see the beginning of 
such a splendid period ; but when I do see it, I shall exclaim 
with the Psalmist, — " Lord, now lettest thou thy servant 
depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation." 

JOHN KEBLE (1792-1866) 

A STRANGE juxtaposition — the poet of the pensive and 
devout Christian Year next to the author of the roUicking 
satire of the Plymley Letters, and the austere, seer-Uke sermon 
on National Apostasy next to the one just printed ! The 
Reform Bill, indeed, once enacted, Sydney Smith, in his St. 
Paul's stall, had become curiously conservative, talked of 
" sudden and foolish largesses of power to the people," of the 
nation " hurrying on through all the well-known steps to 
anarchy," of anti-clerical excesses, and how, though " a 
thousand years have scarce sufficed to make our blessed 
England what it is, an hour may lay it in the dust." ^ He 
was especially incensed with the levelling proceedings of the 
new Ecclesiastical Commission, and the way in which the 
" heads of the Church placed themselves at the head of the 
mob." But this was an elderly politician's chagrined 
disillusionment, not that fiery challenge of outraged faith 
which cried : — 

" Let us depart and leave the apostate land 
To meet the rising whirlwind as she may, 
Without her guardian angels and her God." 

" Fiery words hke these," says Dr. Scott Holland, " roused 
the slumbering Church, at the moment when the Whig reform- 
ers, the types in statesmanship of all that was secular and 
superficial and unreverential in the ' march of mind,' were 
undertaking to set the Bishops' houses in order for them, and 
to carry out utilitarian improvements in the Church's system, 
according to the mind of Erastianism and by the power of 
Parliament. ... To realize the general despair about the 
Church that was shaking men's souls in 1832, it is good to 
glance through a book hke the Greville Memoirs, in which a 

1 The national situation may be gauged by Earl Grey's words in the Upper 
House on May 7, 1832 : — " I do not like in this free country to use the word 
' Monarchy.' " 



man of the world records his profound sense of the imminent 
ruin that threatens Church and State ; or to read the petitions 
and declarations of the early Irvingite movement, in which 
spiritual men sent out their cry of desperate dismay, to show 
why they could only hope for some new outpouring of the 
Spirit into a new Apostolate and a new Catholic Body." ^ 

The general aim of that Tractarian movement which Newman 
always dated from the preaching of the subjoined Sermon, on 
July 14, 1833 — a day kept sacred by him — was, in Professor 
Scott Holland's words : — 

" To show that the Catholic Church established in England 
was not the commonplace, snug, prosaic affair which con- 
temptuous Whigs imagined that they could handle as they 
chose. She could appeal to the imagination, the conscience 
and the heart. She had in her the secret of romance, the 
charm of antiquity, the weight of historic authority, the pathos 
of a troubled and a stormy past, the beauty of a venerable 
martyr, the honour, the majesty, the radiance of, the Church 
of Christ, against which no gates of Hell should e'er prevail. 
Hers was a kingdom, real, strong and living, which could hold 
its own against the presence of all the rising kingdoms of the 
world. The Lyra Apostolica is the record of the Tractarians' 
great and fiery passion. 

" The timidity of the faithless must be scorned into recovery 
of the full splendours of the Church which they would betray. 
Far from conceding this and yielding that, every claim of hers 
must be asserted in its paramount validity, every honourable 
endowment of hers must be boldly proclaimed, all her terror 
must be rigorously upheld. She must come forth in her comeli- 
ness, in her majesty, in her strength, beautiful as an army 
with banners, rejoicing as the sun to run her course. Not by 
minimizing her creed, but by magnifying her name, is the 
peril to be repelled and the day to be saved." ^ 

* The Mission of the Oxford Movement in " Personal Studies," pp. 82, 83. 
2 Ibid., pp. 88. 89. 

JOHN KEBLE (1792-1866) 207 

But the immediate occasion of this sermon, and of the 
launching of the long-gathering movement, was political. In 
1833 the Reformed Parliament had met, and had at once laid 
hands on the Church. To ourselves the suppression of the 
ten Irish bishopricks and two of the four archbishopricks may 
seem to have been a reasonable reform, though it should have 
proceeded from the Church, not the State. The Ecclesiastical 
Commission, threatened in 1833 and created in 1836, has 
come to be looked on as a milch cow for the needs generally 
of the Church. The Liberal line of thought to-day is thin, 
cheap, anti-doctrinal and almost Unitarian, or at least panthe- 
istic, but not directly irreligious or sadducean. But a large 
view must be taken of that reign of William IV, which in one 
sense was so "unidea'd," but in another was an Armageddon of 
passionately conflicting conceptions, a stricken field between 
the forces of utiUtarianism and romanticism, of rights of man 
and authority of God, of latitudinarianism and definite creed. 
That mixture of Bentham pohtics and Paley deism, of mate- 
rialism and revolt, which the Tracts called " the shallow and 
detestable Liberalism of the day " and identified with the 
forerunner of Antichrist, was not only a bhghting, deadening 
and palsying influence, but directly aimed at destroying the 
character of the Church as a Divine and supernatural institu- 
tion, the revealed way of eternal life, and making it, its 
" monkish rookeries " pulled down, the creature of a de- 
Christianized Parliament. Still, it was less by aggressive 
design than Erastian instinct that in the same session of 1833 
the Privy Council was made the supreme court of appeal in 
spiritual causes. 

Keble and his friends were lovers of Christ's poor and haters 
of abuses. Also, of course, they were not clinging to 
antiquated privileges or mere " possessions " for the Church. 
At this time — though not afterwards — they spoke much of 
apostolic poverty, and sternly demanded that the Church 
should be set free " from such a State." In February Keble 


had written : "I suppose there can be no doubt that the 
die of separation is now cast." A year before he had said it 
behoved Churchmen to " consider how they may continue 
their communion with the Church estabhshed, without any 
taint of those Erastian principles on which she is now avowedly 
governed." The Tract-writers spoke scornfully of a secular- 
ized Conservatism, in league with the world. "The vital 
question," said Newman, " was, how were to keep the Church 
from being liberahzed." But it was not to be by help of the 
two-bottle orthodox and the poHtical " friends of Baal," the 
tools of " robbers of shrines " and of that 

" Ruffian band. 
Come to reform where ne'er they came to pray." 

Newman, in the summer of 1833, was at Rome, where he 
had started the Lyra ApostoUca. He was full of " fierce 
thoughts against the Liberals." " We have a work to do in 
England," he gravely said, in quitting the Eternal City. In 
Sicily he was struck down by fever, but he said, " I shall not 
die." His servant found him sobbing on his bed and asked 
what ailed him. " I could only answer him, ' I have a work 
to do in England.' " In the orange-boat, all too slowly 
threading the Straits of Bonifacio, he wrote, " Lead, kindly 
light." But the first blow was not to be struck by him. 
" Exoriare ahquis," he had been praying, and had heard in 
Rome, " Keble is at length roused, and, if once up, wiU prove 
a second St. Ambrose." On July 9, Newman and Hurrell 
Froude, travelhng night and day, landed in England. And 
the following Sunday, July 14, the anniversary of the fall of 
the Bastille, Keble preached in the University Church at 
Oxford, before the Judges of Assize, the momentous sermon 
which was published a fortnight later under the title, " National 
Apostasy." The Bishopricks Bill passed a few days later. 
On July 25 the Hadleigh Conference began, and the Tractarian 
Movement, the aim of which was to recapture England for the 
Faith, entered the sUps upon its great voyage, wherein it now 

JOHN KEBLE (1792-1866) 209 

lies somewhat becalmed, half triumphant and half baffled. 
The first of the Tracts appeared on September 9, 1833. In it 
the apostolic Episcopate was adjured to accept, if need be, 
the spoiling of goods and martyrdom. 

In those first days Apostohcal and Evangelical were at one. 
The foe was the Spirit of the Age. The success of the Move- 
ment, Jowett has said, was due to its spirit of disinterested 
unworldliness. There were no snug canonries, still less 
purple place and power, for the preacher of the following 
sermon and his friends, to whom Arnold in his article on " The 
Oxford Malignants," attributed " moral wickedness." Carlyle 
considered that Keble had " the brain of a rabbit." The 
words of the text are Samuel's to his countrymen, when they 
renounced their theocracy and took a ruler such as the Gentiles 

Advertisement to the First Edition of the Sermon on 
National Apostasy. 
Since the following pages were prepared for the press, the 
calamity, in anticipation of which they were written, has 
actually overtaken this portion of the Church of God. The 
Legislature of England and Ireland, {the members of which are 
not even bound to profess belief in the Atonement) this body has 
virtually usurped the commission of those whom our Saviour 
entrusted with at least one voice in making ecclesiastical laws 
on matters wholly or partly spiritual. The same legislature 
has also ratified, to its full extent, this principle ; — that the 
Apostolical Church in this realm is henceforth only to stand, 
in the eye of the State, as one sect among many, depending, for 
any pre-eminence she may still appear to retain, merely upon 
the accident of her having a strong party in the country. 

It is a moment, surely, full of deep solicitude to all those 
members of the Church who stiU believe her authority divine, 
and the oaths and obhgations, by which they are bound to 
her, undissolved and undissoluble by calculations of human 
expediency. Their anxiety turns not so much on the con- 
sequences, to the State, of what has been done, {they are 
but too evident,) as on the line of conduct which they are 
bound themselves to pursue. How may they continue their 

1 4— (2*33) 


I communion with the Church established, (hitherto the pride and 
j comfort of their hves,) without any taint of those Erastian 
I principles on which she is now avowedly to be governed ? 
i "What answer can we make henceforth to the partisans of the 
I Bishop of Rome, when they taunt us with being a mere Parlia- 
1 mentarian Church ? And how, consistently with our present 
] relations to the State, can even the doctrinal purity and 
I integrity of the most Sacred Order be preserved ? 

The attention of all who love the Church is most earnestly 
solicited to these questions. They are such, it will be observed, 
as cannot be answered by appealing to precedents in English 
History, because, at most, such could only shew, the difficulty 
might have been raised before. It is believed, that there are 
hundreds, nay thousands of Christians, and that soon there 
will be tens of thousands, unaffectedly anxious to be rightly 
guided with regard to these and similar points. And they are 
mooted thus publicly, for the chance of eliciting from competent 
judges a correct and early opinion. 

If, under such trying and delicate circumstances, one could 

venture to be positive about any thing, it would seem safe 

to say that, in such measure as it may be thought incumbent 

', on the Church, or on Churchmen, to submit to any profane 

I intrusion, it must at least be their sacred duty to declare, 

promulgate and record their full conviction that it is intrusion, 

that they yield to it as they might to any other tyranny, but 

do from their hearts deprecate and abjure it. This seems the 

least that can be done : unless we would have our children's 

children say, " There was once here a glorious Church, but it 

was betrayed into the hands of Libertines for the real or 

affected love of a Httle temporary peace and good order." 

July 22, 1833. 

National Apostasy 

A s for me, God forbid that I should sin against the Lord in ceasing to pray for 
you : but I will teach you the good and the right way. — 1 Samuel xii, 23. 

On public occasions, such as the present, the minds of Chris- 
tians naturally revert to that portion of Holy Scripture which 
exhibits to us the will of the Sovereign of the world in more 
immediate relation to the civil and national conduct of man- 
kind. We naturally turn to the Old Testament, when public 
duties, public errors and public dangers are in question. 


And what in such cases is natural and obvious, is sure to be 
more or less right and reasonable. Unquestionably it is a 
mistaken theology which would debar Christian nations and 
statesmen from the instruction afforded by the Jewish Scrip- 
tures, under a notion that the circumstances of that people 
were altogether peculiar and unique, and therefore irrelevant 
to every other case. True, there is hazard of misapplication, 
as there is whenever men teach by example. There is peculiar 
hazard from the sacredness and delicacy of the subject ; 
since dealing with things supernatural and miraculous as if 
they were ordinary human precedents would be not only un- 
wise, but profane. But these hazards are more than counter- 
balanced by the absolute certainty, peculiar to this history, 
that what is there commended was right, and what is there 
blamed, wrong. And they would be effectually obviated if 
men would be careful to keep in view this caution — suggested 
every where, if I mistake not, by the manner in which the Old 
Testament is quoted in the New — that, as regards reward 
and punishment, God dealt formerly with the Jewish people 
in a manner analogous to that in which he deals now, not so 
much with Christian nations, as with the souls of individual 

Let us only make due allowances for this cardinal point of 
difference, and we need not surely hesitate to avail ourselves, 
as the time may require, of those national warnings which 
fill the records of the elder Church : the less so as the dis- 
crepancy lies rather in what is revealed of God's providence 
than in what is required in the way of human duty. Rewards 
and punishments may be dispensed, visibly at least, with a 
less even hand ; but what tempers, and what conduct, God 
will ultimately reward and punish — this is a point which cannot 
be changed : for it depends not on our circumstances, but on 
His essential, unvarying Attributes. 

I have ventured on these few general observations, because 
the impatience with which the world endures any remonstrance 
on religious grounds, is apt to shew itself most daringly when 
the Law and the Prophets are appealed to. Without any 
scruple or ceremony, men give us to understand that they 
regard the whole as obsolete : thus taking the very opposite 
ground to that which was preferred by the same class of persons 
two hundred years ago ; but, it may be feared, with much the 


same purpose and result. Then, the Old Testament was 
quoted at random for every excess of fanatical pride and 
cruelty : now, its authority goes for nothing, however clear 
and striking the analogies may be, which appear to warrant 
us in referring to it. The two extremes, as usual, meet, and 
in this very remarkable point : that they both avail them- 
selves of the supernatural parts of the Jewish revelation to 
turn away attention from that which they, of course, most 
dread and dislike in it : its authoritative confirmation of the 
plain dictates of conscience in matters of civil wisdom and duty. 
That portion, in particular, of the history of the chosen 
people which drew from Samuel, the truest of patriots, the 
wise and noble sentiment in the text, must ever be an unpleasing 
and perplexing page of Scripture to those who would fain 
persuade themselves that a nation, even a Christian nation, 
may do well enough, as such, without God, and without His 
Church. For what if the Jews were bound to the Almighty 
by ties common to no other people ? What if He had con- 
descended to know them in a way in which He was as yet 
unrevealed to all families of the earth besides ? What if, as 
their relation to Him was nearer, and their ingratitude more 
surpassing, so they might expect more exemplary punishment ? 
Still, after all has been said, to exaggerate their guilt, in degree, 
beyond what is supposed possible in any nation whatever now^ 
what can it come to, in kind and in substance, but only this ; — 
that they rejected God ? that they wished themselves rid of 
the moral restraint implied in His peculiar presence and 
covenant ? They said, what the prophet Ezekiel long after 
represents their worthy posterity as saying, " We will be as 
the heathen, the families of the countries." " Once for all, 
we will get rid of these disagreeable, unfashionable scruples, 
which throw us behind, as we think, in the race of worldly 
honour and profit." Is this indeed a tone of thought, which 
Christian nations cannot fall into ? Or, if they should, has it 
ceased to be displeasing to God ? In other words, has He 
forgotten to be angry with impiety and practical atheism ? 
Either this must be affirmed, or men must own (what is clear 
at once to plain unsophisticated readers) that this first overt 
act, which began the downfall of the Jewish nation, stands on 
tecord, with its fatal consequences, for a perpetual warning to 
all nations, as well as to all individual Christians, who, having 


accepted God for their King, allow themselves to be weary of 
subjection to Him, and think they should be happier if they 
were freer, and more like the rest of the world. 

I do not enter into the question whether visible temporal 
judgments are to be looked for by Christian nations, trans- 
gressing as those Jews did. Surely common sense and piety 
unite in representing this inquiry as, practically, one of no 
great importance. When it is once known for certain that 
such and such conduct is displeasing to the King of kings, 
surely common sense and piety concur in setting their mark 
of reprobation on such conduct, whether the punishment, sure 
to overtake it, come to-morrow, or a year hence, or wait till 
we are in another world. 

Waiving this question, therefore, I proceed to others, which 
appear to me, I own, at the present moment especially, of the 
gravest practical import. 

What are the symptoms, by which one may judge most 
fairly, whether or no a nation, as such, is becoming alienated 
from God and Christ ? 

And what are the particular duties of sincere Christians, 
whose lot is cast by Divine Providence in a time of such dire 
calamity ? 

The conduct of the Jews, in asking for a king, may furnish 
an ample illustration of the first point : the behaviour of 
Samuel, then and afterwards, supphes as perfect a pattern of 
the second as can well be expected from human nature. 

I. The case is at least possible of a nation, having for 
centuries acknowledged, as an essential part of its theory of 
government, that, as a Christian nation, she is also a part of 
Christ's Church, and bound, in all her legislation and pohcy, 
by the fundamental rules of that Church : the case is, I say, 
conceivable, of a government and people, so constituted, 
deliberately throwing off the restraint which in many respects 
such a principle would impose on them, nay, disavowing the 
principle itself ; and that on the plea that other states, as 
flourishing or more so in regard of wealth and dominion, do 
well enough without it. Is not this desiring, Uke the Jews, 
to have an earthly king over them, when the Lord their God 
is their King ? Is it not saying in other words, " We will be 
as the heathen, the famihes of the countries," the aliens to the 
Church of our Redeemer ? 


To such a change, whenever it takes place, the immediate 
impulse will probably be given by some pretence of danger from 
without — such as, at the time now spoken of, was furnished 
to the Israelites by an incursion of the children of Ammon — 
or by some wrong or grievance in the executive government, 
such as the malversation of Samuel's sons, to whom he had 
deputed his judicial functions. Pretences will never be hard 
to find ; but, in reality, the movement will always be traceable 
to the same decay or want of faith, the same deficiency in 
Christian resignation and thankfulness, which leads so many, 
as individuals, to disdain and forfeit the blessings of the Gospel. 
Men not impressed with religious principle attribute their ill 
success in life — the hard times they have to struggle with — 
to any thing rather than their own ill-desert : and the institu- 
tions of the country, ecclesiastical and civil, are always at hand 
to bear the blame of whatever seems to be going amiss. Thus, 
the discontent in Samuel's time which led the Israelites to 
demand a change of constitution was discerned by the Un- 
erring Eye, though perhaps little suspected by themselves, 
to be no better than a fresh development of the same restless, 
Godless spirit, which had led them so often into idolatry. 
" They have not rejected thee, but they have rejected Me, 
that I should not reign over them. According to all the works 
which they have done since the day that I brought them up 
out of Egypt even unto this day, wherewith they have for- 
saken Me, and served other gods, so do they also unto thee." 

The charge might perhaps surprise many of them, just as, 
in other times and countries, the impatient patrons of inno- 
vation are surprised at finding themselves rebuked on religious 
grounds. Perhaps the Jews pleaded the express countenance 
which the words of their Law, in one place, seemed, by antici- 
pation, to lend to the measure they were urging. And so, in 
modern times, when liberties are to be taken, and the intrusive 
passions of men to be indulged, precedent and permission, 
or what sounds like them, may be easily found and quoted for 
every thing. But Samuel, in God's name, silenced all this, 
giving them to understand that in His sight the whole was a 
question of motive and purpose, not of ostensible and colour- 
able argument — in His sight, I say, to Whom we, as well as 
they, are nationally responsible for much more than the 
soundness of our deductions as matter of disputation, or of 


law ; we are responsible for the meaning and temper in which 
we deal with His Holy Church, established among us for the 
salvation of our souls. 

These, which have been hitherto mentioned as omens and 
tokens of an Apostate Mind in a nation, have been suggested 
by the portion itself of sacred history to which I have ventured 
to direct your attention. There are one or two more which 
the nature of the subject, and the palpable tendency of things 
around us, will not allow to be passed over. 

One of the most alarming, as a symptom, is the growing 
indifference, in which men indulge themselves, to other men's 
religious sentiments. Under the guise of charity and tolera- 
tion we are come almost to this pass ; that no difference in 
matters of faith is to disqualify for our approbation and con- 
fidence, whether in public or domestic life. Can we conceal 
it from ourselves, that every year the practice is becoming 
more common of trusting men unreservedly in the most 
dehcate and important matters, without one serious inquiry 
whether they do not hold principles which make it impossible 
for them to be loyal to their Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier ? 
Are not offices conferred, partnerships formed, intimacies 
courted, nay (what is almost too painful to think of) do not 
parents commit their children to be educated, do not they 
encourage them to intermarry, in houses on which Apostolical 
Authority would rather teach them to set a mark, as unfit 
to be entered by a faithful servant of Christ ? -^ 

I do not speak of public measures only or chiefly ; many 
things of that kind may be thought, whether wise or no, to 
become from time to time necessary, which are in reality as 
little desired by those who lend them a seeming concurrence 
as they are, in themselves, undesirable. But I speak of the 
spirit which leads men to exult in every step of that kind ; 
to congratulate one another on the supposed decay of what 
they call an exclusive system. ' 

Very different are the feehngs with which it seems natural 
for a true Churchman to regard such a state of things from 
those which would arise in his mind on witnessing the mere 
triumph of any given set of adverse opinions, exaggerated 
or even heretical as he might deem them. He might feel as 
melancholy — he could hardly feel so indignant. 

But this is not a becoming place, nor are these safe topics, 




for the indulgence of mere feeling. The point to be really 
considered is, whether, according to the coolest estimate, the 
fashionable liberality of this generation be not ascribable, in a 
great measure, to the same temper which led the Jews volun- 
tarily to set about degrading themselves to a level with the 
idolatrous Gentiles ? And, if it be true any where, that such 
enactments are forced on the Legislature by public opinion, 
is APOSTASY too hard a word to describe the temper of that 
nation ? 

The same tendency is still more apparent, because the fair 
gloss of candour and forbearance is wanting, in the surly or 
scornful impatience often exhibited by persons who would 
regret passing for unbelievers, when Christian motives are 
suggested, and checks from Christian principles attempted to 
be enforced on their public conduct. I say, " their public 
conduct," more especially ; because in that, I know not how, 
persons are apt to be more shameless, and readier to avow the 
irreligion that is in them — amongst other reasons, probably, 
from each feehng that he is one of a multitude, and fancying, 
therefore, that his responsibility is divided. 

For example : — whatever be the cause, in this country 
of late years (though we are lavish in professions of piety) 
there has been observable a growing disinclination, on the part 
of those bound by voluntary oaths, to whatever reminds 
them of their obligation ; a growing disposition to explain 
it all away. We know what, some years ago, would have been 
thought of such uneasiness, if betrayed by persons officially 
sworn, in private, legal or commercial life. If there be any 
subjects or occasions, now, on which men are inclined to judge 
of it more lightly, it concerns them deeply to be quite sure 
that they are not indulging or encouraging a profane dislike 
of God's awful Presence ; a general tendency, as a people, 
to leave Him out of all their thoughts. 

They will have the more reason to suspect themselves, in 
proportion as they see and feel more of that impatience under 
pastoral authority which our Saviour Himself has taught us 
to consider as a never-failing symptom of an unchristian,^ 
temper. " He that heareth you, heareth Me ; and he that 
despiseth you despiseth Me." Those words of divine truth ~> 
put beyond all sophistical exception, what common sense 
would lead us to infer, and what daily experience teaches, 


that disrespect to the Successors of the Apostles, as such, is 
an unquestionable system of enmity to Him who gave them 
their commission at first, and has pledged Himself to be with 
them for ever. Suppose such disrespect general and national, " 
suppose it also avowedly grounded not on any fancied tenet 
of religion, but on mere human reasons of popularity and 
expediency, either there is no meaning at all in these emphatic ^ 
declarations of our Lord, or that nation, how highly soever 
she may think of her own religion and morality, stands con- 
victed in His sight of a direct disavowal of His Sovereignty. 

To this purpose it may be worth noticing that the ill-fated 
chief whom God gave to the Jews, as the prophet tells us, in 
His anger, and whose disobedience and misery were referred 
by himself to his " fearing the people, and obeying their 
voice," whose conduct, therefore, may be fairly taken as a 
sample of what public opinion was at that time supposed to 
require, his first step in apostasy was, perhaps, an intrusion 
on the sacrificial office, certainly an impatient breach of his 
engagement with Samuel, as the last and greatest of his crimes 
was persecuting David, whom he well knew to bear God's 
special commission. God forbid that any Christian land 
should ever, by her prevailing temper, revive the memory 
and likeness of Saul, or incur a sentence of reprobation like 
his. But if such a thing should be, the crimes of that nation 
will probably begin in infringement on Apostolical Rights ; 
she will end in persecuting the true Church ; and in several 
stages of her melancholy career she will continually be led on 
from bad to worse by vain endeavours at accommodation and 
compromise with evil. Sometimes toleration may be the word, 
as with Saul when he spared the Amalekites ; sometimes State 
security, as when he sought the life of David ; sometimes 
sympathy with popular feeling, as appears to have been the 
case when, violating solemn treaties, he attempted to exter- 
minate the remnant of the Gibeonites, in his zeal for the children 
of Israel and Judah. Such are the sad but obvious results 
of separating rehgious resignation altogether from men's 
notions of civil duty. 

II. But here arises the other question, on which it was '^ 
proposed to say a few words ; and with a view to which, 
indeed, the whole subject must be considered, if it is to lead 
to any practical improvement. What should be the tenour 


of their conduct who find themselves cast on such times of 
r decay and danger ? How may a man best reconcile his alle- 
I giance to God and his Church with his duty to his country, 
I that country, which now, by the supposition, is fast becoming 
h hostile to the Church, and cannot therefore long be the friend 
i oi God? 

Now in proportion as any one sees reason to fear that such 
is, or soon may be, the case in his own land, just so far may he 
see reason to be thankful, especially if he be called to any 
national trust, for such a complete pattern of his duty as he 
may find in the conduct of Samuel. That combination of 
sweetness with firmness, of consideration with energy, which 
constitutes the temper of a perfect public man, was never 
perhaps so beautifully exemphfied. He makes no secret of 
the bitter grief and dismay with which the resolution of his 
countrymen had filled him. He was prepared to resist it at 
all hazards, had he not received from God Himself directions 
to give them their own way ; protesting, however, in the most 
distinct and solemn tone, so as to throw the whole blame of 
what might ensue on their wilfulness. Having so protested, 
and found them obstinate, he does not therefore at once for- 
sake their service, he continues discharging all the functions 
they had left him, with a true and loyal, though most heavy 
heart. " God forbid that I should sin against the Lord in 
ceasing to pray for you : but I will teach you the good and the 
right way." 
' Should it ever happen (which God avert, but we cannot 
shut our eyes to the danger) that the Apostohcal Church 
should be forsaken, degraded, nay trampled on and despoiled, 
by the State and people of England, I cannot conceive a 
kinder wish for her, on the part of her most affectionate and 
dutiful children, than that she may, consistently, act in the 
(^ spirit of this most noble sentence ; nor a course of conduct more 
likely to be blessed by a restoration to more than her former 
efficiency. In speaking of the Church, I mean, of course, the 
laity, as well as the clergy in their three orders, — the whole 
body of Christians united, according to the will of Jesus Christ, 
^ under the Successors of the Apostles. It may, by God's blessing, 
be of some use to shew how, in the case supposed, the 
example of Samuel might guide her collectively, and each of 
her children individually, down even to a minute details of duty. 


The Church would, first of all, have to be constant, as before, 
in INTERCESSION. No dispiteful usage, no persecution, could 
warrant her in ceasing to pray, as did her first fathers and 
patterns, for the State, and all who are in authority. That 
duty once well and cordially performed, all other duties, so to 
speak, are secured. Candour, respectfulness, guarded language, 
all that the Apostle meant in warning men not to " speak 
evil of dignities," may then, and then only, be practised, 
without compromise of truth and fortitude, when the habit 
is attained of praying as we ought for the very enemies of our 
precious and holy cause. 

The constant sense of God's presence and consequent 
certainty of final success, which can be kept up no other way, 
would also prove an effectual bar against the more silent, but 
hardly less malevolent, feeling of disgust, almost amounting 
to misanthropy, which is apt to lay hold on sensitive minds 
when they see oppression and wrong triumphant on a large 
scale. The custom of interceding, even for the wicked, 
will keep the Psalmist's reasoning habitually present to 
their thoughts : " Fret not thyself because of the ungodly, 
neither be thou envious against the evil doers : for they 
shall soon be cut down like the grass, and be withered even 
as the green herb. . . Leave off from wrath, and let go 
displeasure : fret not thyself, else shalt thou be moved to 
do evil." 

Thus not only by supernatural aid, which we have warrant 
of God's word for expecting, but even in the way of natural 
consequence, the first duty of the Church and of Churchmen, 
INTERCESSION, sincerely practised, would prepare them for 
the second ; — which, following the words of Samuel as our 
clue, we may confidently pronounce to be remonstrance. 
" I will teach you the good and the right way." Remon- 
strance, calm, distinct, and persevering, in public and in 
private, direct and indirect, by word, look and demeanour, is 
the unequivocal duty of every Christian, according to his 
opportunities, when the Church landmarks are being broken 

Among laymen, a deep responsibility would appear to rest 
on those particularly whose profession leads them most 
directly to consider the boundaries of the various rights and 
duties which fill the space of civilized Society. The immediate 


machinery of change must always pass through their hands, 
and they have also very great power in forming and modifying 
pubhc opinion. The very solemnity of this day may remind 
them, even more than others, of the close amity which must 
ever subsist between equal justice and pure religion ; apos- 
tolical religion, more especially, in proportion to her superior 
truth and exactness. It is an amity, made still more sacred, 
if possible, in the case of the Church and Law of England, by 
historical recollections, associations and precedents, of the 
most engaging and ennobling cast. 

But I return to the practical admonition afforded her, in 
critical periods, by Samuel's example. 

After the accomphshment of the change which he deprecated, 
his whole behaviour, to Saul especially, is a sort of expansion of 
the sentiment in the text. It is aU earnest intercession with 
God, grave, respectful, affectionate remonstrance with the 
misguided man himself. Saul is boldly rebuked, and that 
pubhcly, for his impious liberality in sparing the Amalekites, 
yet so as not to dishonour him in the presence of the people. 
Even when it became necessary for God's prophet to shew that 
he was in earnest, and give the most effectual of warnings, 
by separating himself from so unworthy a person — when 
" Samuel came no more to see Saul," — even then, we are told, 
he still " mourned for him." 

On the same principle, come what may, we have ill learned 
the lessons of our Church, if we permit our patriotism to decay 
together with the protecting care of the State. " The powers 
that be are ordained of God," whether they foster the true 
Church or no. Submission and order are still duties. They 
were so in the days of pagan persecution ; and the more of 
loyal and affectionate feeling we endeavour to mingle with our 
obedience, the better. 
r After all, the surest way to uphold or restore our endangered 
Church will be for each of her anxious children, in his own place 
and station, to resign himself more thoroughly to his God and 
Saviour in those duties, public and private, which are not 
immediately affected by the emergencies of the moment : the 
daily and hourly duties, I mean, of piety, purity, charity, 
justice. It will be a consolation, understood by every thoughtful 
Churchman, that, let his occupation be, apparently, never so 
remote from such great interests, it is in his power, by doing 


all as a Christian, to credit and advance the cause he has most 
at heart ; and what is more, to draw down God's blessing upon^ 
it. This ought to be felt, for example, as one motive more to 
exact punctuality in those duties, personal and official, which 
the return of an Assize week offers to our practice ; one reason 
more for veracity in witnesses, fairness in pleaders, strict 
impartiality, self-command and patience in those on whom 
decisions depend, and for an awful sense of God's presence in 
all. An Apostle once did not disdain to urge good conduct 
upon his proselytes of lowest condition, upon the ground that, 
so doing, they would adorn and recommend the doctrine of 
God our Saviour. Surely, then, it will be no unworthy 
principle if any man be more circumspect in his behaviour, 
more watchful and fearful of himself, more earnest in his 
petitions for spiritual aid, from a dread of disparaging the holy 
name of the EngHsh Church, in her hour of peril, by his own 
personal fault or negligence. 

As to those who, either by station or temper, feel themselves 
most deeply interested, they cannot be too careful in reminding 
themselves that one chief danger, in times of change and 
excitement, arises from their tendency to engross the whole 
mind. Public concerns, ecclesiastical or civil, will prove 
indeed ruinous to those who permit them to occupy all their 
care and thoughts, neglecting or undervaluing ordinary duties, 
more especially those of a devotional kind. 

These cautions being duly observed, I do not see how any 
person can devote himself too entirely to the cause of the 
Apostolical Church in these realms. There may be, as far as 
he knows, but a very few to sympathise with him. He may 
have to wait long, and very likely pass out of this world before 
he see any abatement in the triumph of disorder and irreligion. 
But, if he be consistent, he possesses, to the utmost, the per- 
sonal consolation of a good Christian ; and, as a true Church- 
man, he has that encouragement which no other cause in the 
world can impart in the same degree : — he is calmly, soberly, 
demonstrably, sure, that, sooner or later, his will be the 
WINNING SIDE, and that the victory will be complete, universal, 

He need not fear to look upon the efforts of Antichristian 
powers, as did the Holy Apostles themselves, who welcomed 
the first persecution in the words of the Psalmist : — 


" Why do the heathen rage, and the people imagine a vain 
thing ? 

" The kings of the earth stand up, and the rulers take counsel 
together, against the Lord, and against His Anointed. 

" For of a truth against Thy Holy Child Jesus, Whom Thou 
hast anointed, both Herod and Pontius Pilate, with the 
Gentiles, and the people of Israel, were gathered together. 

" For to do whatsoever thy hand and thy counsel 
determined before to be done." 


The Tractarian Movement was started by students, poets 
and thinkers, and had for its birthplace an academic common- 
room. The relation to it of the two old Universities was, in 
Neale's words, that Oxford supplied the letter-press and Cam- 
bridge the illustrations. The Oxford contribution was theo- 
logical and impassioned ; the Cambridge factor was ecclesiolo- 
gical and antiquarian. But only parish priests, and especially 
the town clergy, could bring the Revival down into the common 
resorts and everyday life of Englishmen. " Sound," observes 
Church, " requires atmosphere, and there was as yet no 
atmosphere in the public mind in which the voice of this 
learned theology could be heard. The person who first gave 
body and force to Church theology, not to be mistaken or ignored, 
was Dr. Hook. His massive and thorough churchmanship 
was the independent growth of his own thoughts and reading. 
Resolute, through good report and evil report, rough but very 
generous, stem both against Popery and Puritanism, he had 
become a power in the Midlands and the North, and first 
Coventry, then Leeds, were the centres of a new influence. 
He was the apostle of the Church to the great middle class." ^ 

In the " Hear the Church " sermon, however, preached at 
the Chapel Royal in the presence of the youthful Queen just 
before her Coronation, Hook was an apostle of the Church to 
the nation's Head, whose duties we have seen sketched in a 
different spirit by Sydney Smith. It was, as a matter of fact, 
in substance, an old sermon composed at Coventry as one of 
a series on St. Matthew's Gospel, and subsequently preached 
at Leeds and elsewhere, and the historical statements con- 
tained in it are a trifle crude. But Dean Stephens observes : — 

" The aim simply was to lay before the young Sovereign the 

^ The Oxford Movement, p. 12. 



claims, the character and the privileges of the Church to which 
in the providence of God she had been called to be the tem- 
poral Head. Surrounded as she was at that time by Ministers 
whose ignorance of the history of the Church and misconcep- 
tion of its true principles and constitution might, as he feared, 
prejudice her mind with fatal errors on the subject, he con- 
ceived it to be his duty, so far as in him lay, to prejudice her 
mind in favour of the truth. . . 

" There are many who can date from the perusal of that 
sermon an increase in their attachment to the Church, or the 
creation of an attachment never felt before . . . Many too 
can remember how a spirit of zeal was kindled within them 
as they read the burning words with which the sermon ends. 

" Earnest and decided Churchmen, of course, rejoiced. 
Letters of congratulation and gratitude poured in from all 
directions. Writing to his wife on June 20th, Hook expressed 
his astonishment at the noise which his poor sermon had made. 
The Duke of Wellington told him he heard he had preached 
a very fine sermon. ... ' They say at the Castle that the 
Queen was much affected, and on returning home retired for 
about an hour. If this be true, one may hope that good has 
been done.' He wrote afterwards to the Times to contradict 
a report which had got about that he was forbidden to preach 
in the Chapel Royal again, adding that he had not any reason 
to suppose that her Majesty was otherwise than pleased with 
the sermon." 

However this may have been — and Queen Victoria's training 
and surroundings were undoubtedly unfavourable to apprecia- 
tion of the Catholic revival — the sermon provoked a storm in 
the press and much public commotion. It ran through at least 
thirty-two editions, and had a large number of replies. Cer- 
tainly one passage surprises the reader of to-day by its boldness ; 
but in 1838, when the practice of the Sovereign attending the 
established worship in Scotland had not yet begun, it probably 
did not sound so outspokenly personal. Indeed, at her first 


visit to her northern kingdom, Queen Victoria attended one 
of the so-called " Episcopalian " churches. 

Dean Hook's churchmanship, however, was often wayward, 
self-opinionated and impulsive, and, besides minor points of 
disagreement between the Tractarians and himself — as regards 
which there was doubtless much to urge on both sides — and 
a justifiable impatience with firebrands, he broke away entirely 
from estabhshed High Church orthodoxy on a number of points, 
so as to become rather a thorn in the side of the Movement. 
It is pleasant to know that on his death-bed he sent a loving 
message, through Liddon, to " that saint whom England 
persecuted, our dearly beloved Pusey," and received an equally 
affectionate response, in which Dr. Pusey spoke of the long 
life of friendship begun in Hook's rooms in Peckwater, fifty- 
four years before. Hook, if a slightly cantankerous, was a 
warm-hearted man, and something better. For if anyone 
would know better the state of things which Hook found, and 
the state of things which he left, at Coventry and Leeds, he 
had better turn to Stephen's Life of a strenuous parish priest 
who did a work for religion in urban England which was in 
truth unique. 

" Hear the Church." 

Hear the Church. — St. Matthew xviii, 17. 
This little sanctuary, in which we are now assembled, will 
always be regarded by the Enghsh Churchman with feelings 
of pious sentiment and respect. Here, from time immemorial, 
our Sovereigns have worshipped and our Bishops preached ; 
and these walls were the first which heard the sound of our 
English Liturgy. Here young Edward imbibed the principles 
of Divine Truth from the lips of Ridley and Cranmer, and here, 
in the reign of Ehzabeth, her Bishops, supported by her 
united firmness, wisdom and piety, manfully upheld the prin- 
ciples of the English Reformation, maintaining the equipoise 
against the Papist on the one hand and, on the other, against 
those ultra-Protestants who were anxious to introduce the 
foreign system, and to revolutionize religion instead of reforming 
the Church. Here, too, Charles, who died a martyr for the 

IS— (2433) 


principles of the Church — ^for the Church of England boasts 
the only royal martyr in the calendar,^ — sought that strength 
from on high, which enabled him to lay down his " grey 
discrowned head " upon the block with a blessed peace of 
mind which a rebel nation, while depriving him of everything 
else, was unable to take away. Here, ever since, by faithful 
pastors, our British Sovereigns have loyally, dutifully and 
respectfully, but, at the same time, I hope with firmness and 
fearlessness, been reminded of that solemn account they will 
one day have to render to Him who is King of kings and Lord 
of lords and the Ruler of princes. Here they have been ad- 
monished of the awful responsibility of high office, of the 
temptations by which they are surrounded, of the example 
they are bound to set, of their duty as the nursing fathers and 
nursing mothers of the Church ; and here those Sovereigns, 
in the ordinances and sacraments of the Gospel, have sought 
for that Divine Grace of which they have stood in need as 
much as, yea, from their increased responsibiHty, from their 
greater temptations and difficulties, if possible, more than, 
the very meanest of their subjects. 

In such a place then it cannot be deemed improper, if I 
briefly lay before you the claims, the character, and the privi- 
leges of the Church. May God the Holy Spirit be with me 
while I speak, and with you while you hear ; with me, that I 
may speak boldly as I ought to speak ; with you, that you may 
receive the word with pure affection ; with me that I may 
not give, with you that you may not take, offence. 

Now, at the very outset, I must state that I refer to the 
Church, not as a mere National Estabhshment of Religion, 
but as the Church, a religious community, intrinsically inde- 
pendent of the State ; that is to say, I am about to treat of 
the Church, not in its pohtical, but simply and solely in its 
religious, character. 

No one who reads the Bible can for one moment doubt 
that Religion is, or ought to be, a national concern, so long as 
the Bible contains such awful denunciations against national 
apostasy and national vice, and while, among the predicted 
blessings of Christianity, it was foretold as one, that kings 
should be the nursing fathers, and queens the nursing mothers, 

1 St. Edmund and St. Edward are also commemorated in the Kalendar, 
but only to King Charles's name is " Martyr " affixed. 


of the Church. And to desire to belong to that rehgious society 
which happens to be estabHshed in our native land is a senti- 
ment patriotic, praiseworthy and honourable. But there is 
always still a further question to be asked ; namely, whether 
the society of Christians established by the government, and 
invested with certain emoluments and privileges, be a pure 
branch of the Church which was instituted by our blessed Lord 
and His Apostles. And if it be not such, however wiUing we 
might be to preserve the peace of society by refusing to injure 
a national institution, we should, nevertheless, be amply justi- 
fied, as Rehgionists, in refusing to conform to it. If the mere 
fact that a religious society is established by the civil govern- 
ment be sufficient to claim for it our adhesion, see what the 
consequence must be ; we should be obliged, on such princi- 
ples, to become Presbyterians in Scotland and Holland, Papists 
in France and Italy ; nay, in some parts of the world, wor- 
shippers of the Mosque and votaries of Brahma ! Whereas the 
consistent Protestant could not, of course, conform to the 
Established Church in France or Italy, until those Churches 
have undergone a thorough reformation ; the consistent 
Enghsh Churchman cannot conform to the Presbyterian 
establishment in Scotland, but in that part of the island attends 
the services of the Scottish Episcopal Church, which, though 
at one time estabhshed, was, at the Revolution in 1688, from 
political considerations, deprived of its endowments, which 
were then given to the community of Presbyterians, which 
has there become the estabhshed rehgion. 

Bless God, then, we may, that the true Church is estabhshed 
here in England, and that, while as patriots we would support 
its establishment for our country's good, we can also, as 
Christians, conscientiously conform to it ; yet it is not on the 
ground that it is established by the State, but on grounds 
much higher and holier than these, that in this sacred place 
we are to state its claims. So entirely independent is the Church 
(as the Church) of the State, that were all connexion between 
the Church and the State at this very moment to cease, (though 
we may be sure the monarchy would be destroyed) the Church, 
as the Church, would continue precisely as she now is ; that is 
to say, our Bishops, though deprived of temporal rank, would 
still exercise all those spiritual functions which, conferred 
by higher than human authority, no human authority can 


take away ; still to the vacant sees they would consecrate new 
bishops, stiU ordain the clergy, stiU confirm the baptized, still 
govern the Church ; our priests, assisted by the deacons, 
would still administer the sacraments and preach the Gospel ; 
our Liturgy, even though we were driven to upper rooms of 
our towns, or to the very caves of the desert, would still be 
solemnized. We may be sure of this, for this very thing has 
happened in times past. When the United States of America 
were English colonies, the English Church was there estab- 
lished. At the revolution the State was destroyed. Mon- 
archy has there ceased to exist. But the Church, though 
depressed for a time, remained uninjured ; so that there — 
among the American repubhcans — under the superintendence 
of no fewer than sixteen bishops — ^you wiU find her sacraments 
and ordinances administered, and aU her ritual and liturgical 
services administered, with not less of purity, zeal and 
solemnity than here in England ; there you may see the 
Church, like an oasis in the desert, blessed by the dews of 
heaven, and shedding heavenly blessings around her, in a 
land where, because no religion is established, if it were not for 
her, nothing but the extremes of infidelity or fanaticism would 

And so you may perceive what is meant when we say that 
we wish to speak of the Church, not as an establishment, but 
as the Church, a religious society, a particular society of 

We will commence with an indisputable fact. In this country 
there is at this time a religious society, known by the name of 
the Church. The question is, when and by whom was this 
society instituted ? 

Now the Roman Cathohcs or Papists assert that it was 
instituted and founded, like the generality of Protestant sects, 
by certain Reformers of the sixteenth century, and thence 
they would deduce a strong argument against us. They 
would ask us, whether any man can take unto himself the 
office of the ministry, unless he be sent by God ; and if we are 
scriptural Christians, if we take the Bible for our guide, if we 
act on that sound Protestant principle, with the fifth chapter 
to the Hebrews open before us, we must answer, no. Then 
they proceed to ask, how can you prove that your ministers 
are called of God to the office ? Ajid if their assertion were 


true, that our Church was founded at the Reformation, we 
could give them no answer at all. 

But at the period of the Reformation, when Cranmer and 
Ridley flourished, there was a Church existing and established 
in England, and as Archbishop of that Church Cranmer, 
our celebrated Reformer, was consecrated. That Church 
had existed, as all parties admit, from the first planting of 
Christianity in England. But Archbishop Cranmer found 
that in his time it had become in certain respects corrupted ; 
that the Bishop of Rome, for example, had usurped over it 
an authority and influence which he did not possess by right ; 
that many practices prevailed, some of them contrary to 
Scripture, and some of them much abused to superstitions, 
such as the worshipping of saints and images, and the use of 
the Liturgy in a language not understood by the people ; 
while opinions were prevalent (such as those relating to tran- 
substantiation,) decidedly erroneous, which the Church did 
not protest against, but, on the contrary, rather seemed to 
sanction. Now when once these errors were pointed out and 
proved to be unscriptural, our Divines would have been guilty 
of heresy had they pertinaciously adhered to them. Before 
the Reformation, those who adhered to them were not guilty 
of heresy, for they held the doctrines which (ever since the 
Reformation) we have renounced from a mere error of fact. 
They supposed them to be revealed doctrines, and therefore 
they in humble faith received them ; we, on the contrary, 
have ascertained that these doctrines were not revealed, and 
therefore, influenced by the same faith, reject them ; so that 
it was by one and the self-same principle that, both before 
and since the Reformation, the true members of the Church 
of England have been actuated. They said, and we say pre- 
cisely the same, whatsoever is revealed, that we will not 
question but believe. But as to the fact, whether this or that 
doctrine was revealed, they were less cautious than we are now ; 
we who, perhaps, err on the very side of caution. 

But, to return to the Archbishop and the Prelates who aided 
him in the work of reformation. They discovered that all the 
errors which they detected in their Church were innovations 
gradually and imperceptibly introduced, and not belonging 
originally or essentially to the Church of England ; that, 
even in the seventh century, five councils were held in England 


when the doctrines denounced by the Reformers were unknown. 
What, then, did the Archbishop and his associates determine 
to do ? They determined, as they had an undoubted right to 
do, not to overthrow the old Church and estabhsh a protestant 
sect in its place, but merely to reform, to correct abuses in, the 
existing Church. And, aided by the civil powers, this they 
did, by asserting, first, their own independence, as Bishops, 
against the usurped authority of the Pope, who had no more 
authority of right in England than the Bishop of Canterbury 
had in Rome ; by discontinuing practices which led evidently 
to unscriptural superstitions ; by protesting against certain 
prevalent erroneous doctrines ; by translating the Scriptures 
and the ancient Ritual and Liturgy, which latter (the Ritual 
and Liturgy we still retain) besides translating, they re-arranged. 
But, though they did this, they still remained the same Bishops 
and Divines of the same Church. An attempt was made to 
revive the old superstitions in Queen Mary's reign, but, by the 
pious firmness of Elizabeth, her Bishops were enabled to com- 
plete the work so happily commenced in the reigns of her 
father and brother. 

Now, from this historical statement, you see the absurdity 
of which the Papists are guilty when they accuse us of having 
deserted or dissented from the old Church and of having 
reared a new Church, of human origin ; the absurdity of 
speaking of theirs as the old Church and the old religion. 

About two years ago this very Chapel, in which we are now 
assembled, was repaired ; certain disfigurements removed ; 
certain improvements made. Would it not be absurd, on that 
account, to contend that it is no longer the Chapel Royal ? 
Would it not be still more absurd if some one were to build 
a new Chapel in the neighbourhood, imitating closely what 
this Chapel was five years ago, and carefully piling up all the 
dust and rubbish which was at that time swept from hence, 
and then pronounce that, not this, to be the ancient Chapel of 
the Sovereigns of England ? The absurdity is at once apparent ; 
but this is precisely what has been done by the Roman Catholic 
or Papist. The present Church of England is the old Catholic 
Church of England, reformed, in the reigns of Henry, Edward 
and Ehzabeth, of certain superstitious errors ; it is the same 
Church which came down from our British and Saxon ancestors, 
and, as such, it possesses its original endowments, which were 


never, as ignorant persons foolishly suppose, taken from one 
Church and given to another. The Church remained the same 
after it was reformed as it was before, just as a man remains 
the same man after he has washed his face as he was before, 
just as Naaman, the leper, remained the same Naaman, after 
he was cured of his leprosy, as he was before. And so regularly, 
so canonically, was the Reformation conducted that even 
those who thought no reformation requisite still remained for 
a time in the Church ; they did not consider what was done 
(though they did not approve of it) sufficient to drive them 
into a schism. It was not till the twelfth year of Queen 
Elizabeth's reign that, listening to the exhortations of the 
Pope, they quitted the Church and formed a new sect, from 
which the present Romish dissenters have descended, and in 
which were retained all those errors in opinion and practice, 
all that rubbish, which the Catholic Church in England had 
at the Reformation corrected and swept away. Let it always 
be remembered that the English Romanists separated from 
us, not we from them ; we did not go out from them, but they 
from us. The shghtest acquaintance with that neglected branch 
of learning, Ecclesiastical History, will convince us of this. 
They left the Church of England, to which they originally 
belonged, because they thought their Bishops had reformed 
too much, had become too protestant ; just as Protestant 
dissenters left us, because they thought we had not reformed 
enough ; that we were, as they still style us, too popish. The 
one party left us because they wanted no reform, the other 
because, instead of a reformation, they wished a religious 
revolution — the Reformers of the Church of England carefully 
preserving a middle path. 

The Church of England, then, that Church to which we 
belong, is the old Catholic Church which was originally planted 
in this country. But the founders of the Church of England 
— remember I do not mean the Reformers : for nothing but 
ignorance, the most gross, will speak of them as our founders ; 
ignorance which concedes to the Papists an argument of the 
very greatest importance — the founders, or planters, of the 
Church of England, both Britons and Saxons, were bishops 
ordained by other bishops, precisely as is the case at the pre- 
sent time ; the catalogue has been carefully and providentially 
preserved from the beginning. And the bishops who ordained 


them had been ordained by other bishops, and so back to the 
Apostles, who ordained the first bishops, being themselves 
ordained by Christ. This is what is called the doctrine of the 
Apostolic Succession ; which is a doctrine of considerable 
importance. For unless the ministers of the Gospel are sent 
by Christ, what right have they to act in His name ? If we 
were passing through a foreign land, we might be perfectly 
competent to act as ambassador for the Queen of England ; 
but would any foreign potentate receive us as such, unless we 
could produce our credentials ? Many a lawyer may be as 
well qualified to perform the duties of the Lord Chancellor as 
the Chancellor himself, but is he able to act as Chancellor? 
No, certainly ; not unless he has first received a commission 
from his Sovereign. And so with respect to religion. What 
right has a man to take upon himself to act as God's ambas- 
sador, unless God has commissioned him so to act ? An elo- 
quent man he may be, and one mighty in the Scriptures, but 
he has no authority to speak in God's name until God has 
given him that authority. How, asks St. Paul, shall they 
preach, i.e., preach lawfully, except they be sent, i.e., sent by 
God ? No man, says Scripture, taketh this honour to himself, 
but he that is called of God. Nay, even Christ, says the 
Apostle, glorified not himself to be made an high-priest, but 
He that said unto Him, " Thou art my Son, this day have I 
begotten thee : " even He entered not on his ministerial office 
until He was externally appointed thereto. 

As the Lord Jesus Christ was sent by the Father, so were the 
Apostles sent by Him. " As my Father hath sent Me," He 
says, soon after His resurrection, " even so send I you." Now 
how had the Father sent Him ? He had sent Him to act as 
His supreme minister on earth ; as such to appoint unto Him 
subordinate ministers and to do what He then did, when His 
work on earth was done, to hand on His commission to others. 
The Apostles, in like manner, were sent by Christ to act as His 
chief ministers in the Church, to appoint subordinate ministers 
under them, and then, as He had done, to hand on their com- 
mission to others. And on this commission, after our Lord 
had ascended upon high, the Apostles proceeded to act. They 
formed their converts into Churches : these Churches consisted 
of baptized believers, to officiate among whom subordinate 
ministers, priests and deacons, were ordained, while the 


Apostle who first formed any particular Church exercised over 
it episcopal superintendence, either holding an occasional 
visitation, by sending for the clergy to meet him (as St. Paul 
summoned to Miletus the clergy of Ephesus), or else trans- 
mitting to them those pastoral addresses which, under the 
name of Epistles, form so important a portion of Holy Scrip- 
ture. At length, however, it became necessary for the Apostles 
to proceed yet further, and to do as their Lord had empowered 
them to do, to hand on their commission to others, that at 
their own death the governors of the Church might not be 
extinct. Of this we have an instance in Titus, who was placed 
in Crete by St. Paul to act as chief pastor or Bishop, and 
another in Timothy, who was in like manner set over the 
Church at Ephesus. And when Timothy was thus appointed 
to the office of chief pastor he was associated with St. Paul, 
who, in writing to the Philippians, commences his salutation 
thus : " Paul and Timotheus to the servants of Jesus Christ 
who are at Philippi, with the bishops and deacons." 

Now we have here the three orders of the ministry clearly 
alluded to. The title of Bishop, is, to be sure, given to the 
second order ; but it is not for words, but for things, that we 
are to contend. Titles may be changed while office remains : so 
senators exist, though they are not now of necessity old men ; 
and most absurd would it be to contend that, when we speak 
of the Emperor Constantine, we can mean no other office 
than that held under the Roman republic, because we find 
Cicero also saluted as emperor. 

So stood the matter in the apostoHc age, when the chief 
pastors of the Church were generally designated Apostles or 
Angels, i.e., messengers sent by God Himself. In the next 
century, the office remaining, the designation of those who 
held it was changed, the title of Apostle was confined to the 
twelve, including St. Paul ; and the chief pastors who succeeded 
them were thenceforth called Bishops, the subordinate minis- 
ters being styled Priests and Deacons. And thus we see, as 
Christ was sent by the Father, so He sent the Apostles ; as 
the Apostles were sent by Christ, so did they send the first 
race of Bishops ; as the first race was sent by the Apostles, 
so they sent the second race of Bishops, the second the third, 
and so down to our present Bishops, who can thus trace their 
spiritual descent from St. Peter and St. Paul, and prove their 


divine authority to govern the Churches over which they are 
canonically appointed to preside. Like the Apostles, they have 
the right to appoint under them subordinate ministers ; and 
so, let the Papists say what they will, the clergy of England 
can establish their right by commission from Christ to minister 
in sacred things. 

Such was originally the constitution, not of one or two 
Churches only, but of the Church Universal — the Church 
Catholic. Against the Church, so constituted in various places, 
sectarians arose, even in the Apostolic age. These sects were 
generally, hke modern sects, distinguished by the names of 
their founders. But true Churches disdained to be called after 
any human being whatever, since of them Christ was the 
Author and Finisher. The episcopal Churches, persevering 
in the Apostles' doctrine and fellowship, were styled collec- 
tively the Cathohc Church ; and, in order to distinguish it from 
the surrounding sects, the true orthodox Church in any par- 
ticular country was sometimes called a branch of the Catholic 
Church, sometimes the Catholic Church of that place, and 
hence the term Catholic came by degrees to signify (as Bishop 
Beveridge remarks) much the same as our term orthodox — 
the orthodox Church, and orthodox members of the same — that 
Church which adhered to the Scriptural discipline and doctrine 
universally received, as distinguished from the discipline 
invented, and the doctrine propounded, by individual teachers. 

You see here, by the way, the folly (if it be not a sin, for it is 
calling " evil, good — and good, evil,") of styhng the Romish 
dissenters in England, as some persons in extreme ignorance, 
and others perhaps with bad intentions, do. Catholics ; for this 
insinuates that we of the Church of England are heretics, 
whereas you have seen that ours, not theirs, is the true and 
orthodox Church in this country, the real Catholic Church in 
and of England. If they dishke the name of Papist, we may 
speak of them as Romanists, or even Roman Catholics. Roman 
CathoUcs they may be styled, for (though schismatics and 
dissenters in England) in France and Italy they belong to a 
Church true by descent, though corrupted by Roman or popish 
superstitions. A bad man is still a man, and you may refuse 
to associate with him before he reforms — but still you will 
never permit him so to style himself a man as to imply that 
you yourself are an inhuman being. 


Pure in its doctrine, apostolic in its discipline, and edifying 
in its ceremonies, this Catholic and Apostolic Church diffused 
its blessings and preserved its purity for many hundred years. 
In the middle ages it existed, still working good and adminis- 
tering grace according to the exigence of the times ; emitting 
a ray of light when all around was dark. But the surrounding 
ignorance and gloom prevented the detection of various cor- 
ruptions and disfigurements which by degrees crept into it, 
until, in the sixteenth century, the sun of learning having 
dawned upon Europe, its defects in this country began to 
betray themselves too obviously to be any longer tolerated. 
Of these defects, so far as the English branch of the Church 
was concerned, the Bishops of the Church of England, as I 
have before stated, by degrees became aware, and while they 
venerated the fabrick which Apostles had reared, and of which 
Christ Himself was the chief corner-stone, they carefully 
removed the incrustations which disfigured it, and, sweeping 
away the rubbish by which it had been overlaid, displayed the 
real Rock on which it had been built. Thus was the Cathohc 
and Apostolic Church, of which we profess our belief in the 
Creeds, rescued in England from Popish domination, and 
(reformed or brought back to its primitive purity, dignified 
in its simplicity) it retained the ministry in regular succes- 
sion from the Apostles, and a Ritual and Liturgy which can 
themselves in great part be traced back to the Apostohc age. 

Although causelessly to separate from such a Church must 
be a schismatical act, yet we do not uncharitably pronounce 
sentence of excommunication upon those who have, by cir- 
cumstances over which they have no control, been brought 
up without its pale. In error, of course, we believe them to be, 
but certainly not in such error from that circumstance as to 
endanger their salvation : and if we suppose them, as we must 
do, to lack our privileges, this ought only to make us respect 
them the more, if at any time we find them (with fewer advan- 
tages) surpassing us in godliness. We do not confine God's 
grace and favour to the Church, for we remember that, though 
Job was not a member of the then Church of God, still he was 
a man eminently pious and highly-favoured ; we remember 
that, though Balaam was not in the Church, yet he was an 
inspired Prophet ; we remember that Jethro also, the father-in- 
law of Moses, though not a proselyte to Israel (and the Church 


at that time was confined to Israelites) was yet a servant of 
God ; we remember that the Rechabites were actually com- 
mended by God at the very time He passed censure upon those 
who were then His Church — the people Israel. 

Remembering all this, we say not that other denominations 
of Christians are cast out from the mercy of God through the 
Saviour, because they belong not to the Church ; all that we 
say is, that it does not follow that these concessions must 
render void the divine appointment of the Church, the divine 
command to all nations, and of course to aU mankind, to be 
united with it, or the scriptural evidence for episcopacy as the 
divinely sanctioned organisation of its ministry, — and we 
contend that, a treasure having been committed to us, we are 
not to undervalue it lest we should offend others, but are to 
preserve it in its purity, and in all its integrity to transmit it 
to our children and our children's children. 

And let me ask. Is not the privilege of belonging to a Church 
thus orthodox in its doctrine, and true by descent, thus both 
Catholic and Protestant, a privilege for which we should be 
deeply grateful to the providence and grace of God ? And 
will not the account we shall have to render be awful, if we 
neglect, despise or forgo the advantages thus placed within 
our reach ? 

Let us ever remember that the primary object for which the 
Church was instituted by Christ, its Author and Finisher, 
and for which the apostolical succession of its ministers was 
established, that the primary object for which, through ages 
of persecution, and ages of prosperity, and ages of darkness, 
and ages of corruption, and ages of reformation, and ages of 
latitudinarianism, and now in an age of rebuke and blas- 
phemy, now when we have fallen on evil days and evil tongues, 
the primary object for which the Church has stiU been pre- 
served by a providential care, marvellous sometimes if not 
miraculous in our eyes, was, and is, to convey supernaturally 
the saving merits of the atoning Blood of the Lamb of God 
and the sanctifying graces of His Holy Spirit to the believer's 
soul. In the Church it is that the appointed means are to be 
found by which that mysterious union with Christ is promoted, 
in which our spiritual life consists. In her it is that the Third 
Person of the Blessed Trinity abideth for ever, gradually to 
change the heart of sinful man, and to make that flesh which 


He finds stone, — gradually to prepare us for heaven, while our 
ascended Saviour is preparing heaven for us. And oh ! my 
brethren ! what a privilege it is to have this well of living 
waters in which you may wash and be clean ! You know 
that you are sinful creatures, very far gone from righteousness ; 
you know that your condition is such that you cannot turn 
and prepare yourselves by your own natural strength and good 
works to faith and calling upon God ; you know that by nature 
you cannot love the Lord your God with all your heart and 
soul and strength ; you cannot discharge the various duties 
of your various situations in life ; you know that, whatever 
your condition now may be, the hour must come of affliction 
and sorrow, of sickness and sadness, the inevitable hour of 
death ; and the Church is instituted to convey to you pardon 
upon your repentance, and grace in time of need ; it is insti- 
tuted to instruct you in your ignorance, to comfort you in your 
sorrows, to elevate you in your devotions, to bring you into 
communion with your Saviour, your Sanctifier, your God ; to 
prepare you for the hour of death, yea, for the day of judg- 
ment ; and this she chiefly does through the sacraments of 
the Gospel, and the other divinely appointed ordinances of 
religion, if of them you will but avail yourselves. 

But this is not all ; while the Church thus ministers grace 
to individuals, it is part of her business to preserve, hand down 
and proclaim the truth, the whole truth, as it is in Jesus. 
And our duty, therefore, it is — especially, if we happen by 
God's Providence to be called to situations of influence, rank, 
or authority — by all the means in our power, to increase her 
efficiency in this respect, to place her on the watch-tower, that 
her voice may be heard through the length and the breadth 
of the land ; our duty it is, to take care that her faith be pre- 
served intact and pure ; our duty it is, to vindicate her from 
the glosses of ignorance, and the misrepresentations of pre- 
judice and malice ; our duty it is, clearly to define, and zea- 
lously to maintain, those peculiar doctrines and that peculiar 
discipline which have always marked, and do still continue 
to mark, the distinction between the Church of Christ, ad- 
ministered under the superintendence of chief Pastors or 
Bishops who have regularly succeeded to the Apostles, and 
those sects of Christianity which exist under self-appointed 


Against the Church the world seems at this time to be set 
in array. To be a true and faithful member of the Church 
requires no little moral courage. Basely to pretend to belong 
to her, while designing mischief against her in the heart, this 
is easy enough ; but manfully to contend for her because 
she is the Church, a true Church, a pure Church, a holy 
Church, this is difficult to those who court the praise of 
men, or fear the censure of the world. May the great God 
of heaven, may Christ the great Bishop and Shepherd of 
souls, who is over all things in the Church, put it, my 
brethren, into your hearts and minds to say and feel (as I 
do), " As for me and my house, we will live in the Church, 
we will die in the Church, and if need shall be, like our martyred 
forefathers, we wdll die for the Church." 

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (1801-1890) 

Between 1841 and 1845 a shadow drew slowly like eclipse 
across the Oxford Movement. It was known more and more 
surely that its most towering mind and genius despaired of 
the Church of England and was about to leave it. The only 
Tract writer who had been a Low Churchman, Newman, had 
" passed out of the umbra of Liberalism " into the Via Media, 
and now he was passing out, through darkness and anguish, 
at the other side. " I am a foreign material," he wrote sadly 
in 1843, " and cannot assimilate with the Church of England." 
It is sometimes said that Newman would have remained in 
the Movement if he could have known the astonishing successes 
it would achieve. This is very doubtful. To be sure, there is 
much in those contrasted pictures which haunted him that time 
has nullified. The Church of England, though irresolute and 
unauthoritative, is not barren or dry-breasted, or a disowner 
of the prophets : The Via Media is something more than a 
" paper theory " which has " slept in libraries," for it has been 
made by a hundred thousand disciples " substantive and 
concrete." Nor has the Roman Church, in England at least, any 
longer the apostolic note of being everywhere spoken against 
and unfashionable. But Newman never could have felt at home 
in modem Anglicanism. His lonely and fastidious intellect 
was not greatly at home in modern Romanism either. He 
belonged to a more mystical and finer world. Surely it is a 
strange fate which has made the Essay on Development, 
the writing of which determined Newman's change of fold, a 
starting-point of Modernist neology. 

In 1829 Newman had described himself in his Diary as " led 
on by God's hand blindly, not knowing whither He is taking 
me," In 1833 he said that all he believed had come to him 



through Keble's mind. Soon the issue of the Tracts marked 
himself out as the leader of a cause. But the eagle spirit 
was soon to wing its solitary way. In 1836 Hurrell Froude, 
" the bright and beautiful," died. In 1839 Newman convinced 
himself that neither the University nor the Episcopate would 
accept a Catholic view of the Church, and in the Long Vacation 
of that year he saw " the shadow of a hand upon the wall," 
he looked at his face in the mirror of Antiquity and knew him- 
self a Monophysite. " He who has seen a ghost cannot be as 
if he had never seen it. The heavens had opened and closed 
again." In his article on " English Catholicity " he seemed 
to himself almost to have shot his last arrow. Before the year 
was out, he contemplated resigning St. Mary's, but yielded to 
Keble's persuasion. In 1840 he gave up the British Critic. 
February, 1841, saw the publication of Tract XC, condemned 
a fortnight later by the Heads. " I should be sorry," said 
one dignitary, "to trust the author of that Tract with my 
purse." To the storm raised by it Newman would not bow, 
but Bishop Lloyd's disapprobation was a different matter. 
" I loved to act as feeUng myself in my Bishop's sight as if it 
were in the sight of God," and after his entrance into the fold 
of Rome he wrote to Wiseman that he would obey the Pope 
as he had obeyed his own Bishop while an Anglican. The 
Tracts were at once discontinued, and in a letter to the Bishop 
he resigned his place in the Movement. 

In the Summer of 1841 he found himself at Littlemore — the 
village dependance of St. Mary's, Oxford — " without any 
harass or anxiety " on his mind. He had built a church there 
in 1835, and now began to turn a range of ancient cottages 
into a half vicarage, half priory. Littlemore might become, 
he hoped, a Torres Vedras for the cause. Then came three 
poignant blows. Writing his History of Arianism, the ghost 
came to Newman, he tells us, a second time. Anglicans were 
the semi-Arians, and the truth lay now, as in the fourth century, 
with the so-caUed " extremists." While he was in the misery 

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (1801-1890) 241 

of this discovery, the Bishops began to charge against him — 
" a formal, determinate movement." On the top of this came 
the affair of the Jerusalem Bishoprick, and the fraternization 
with Lutherans. " This third blow," Newman writes in the 
Apologia, " finally shattered my faith in the Anglican Church. 
... At the end of 1841 I was on my death-bed as regards my 
membership." Still, the Church of England might be thought 
of as a Samaria of old — schismatic, yet not cut off from God. 
In 1841 he preached four sermons aimed at re-assuring per- 
plexed feUow-churchmen. At the end of 1842 he protested : 
" There is a Divine life among us, in spite of aU our disorders." 
He urged on correspondents the duty of cultivating interior 
religion and leaving the rest to God. But he formally retracted 
(in the Conservative Journal, Jan., 1843) all the hard things 
he had said against Rome, and withdrew more and more to 
his retreat. Except on Sundays, he was now hardly ever in 
" dear Oxford," " sacred Oxford." The king of the herd 
was creeping away, wounded, to die. 

Then the flies began to buzz. " Why did I go up to Little- 
more ? For no good purpose, certainly. Why, to be sure, 
it was hard that I should be obliged to say to the editors of 
newspapers that I went up there to say my prayers. . . Yet I 
was considered insidious, sly, dishonest, if I would not open 
my heart to the tender mercies of the world. . . Cowards ! 
if I advanced one step, you would rim away. It is not you that 
I fear — ' di me terrent et Jupiter hostis.' It is because the 
Bishops will go on charging against me, though I have quite 
given up. It is that secret misgiving of heart which tells me 
they do well, for I have neither part nor lot with them. This 
it is which weighs me down. I cannot walk into or out of my 
house, but curious eyes are upon me. Why will you not let 
me die in peace ? " One day, he says, he entered his house 
to find a flight of undergraduates inside, while Heads of Houses, 
as mounted patrols, walked their horses round those poor 
cottages, and Doctors of Divinity peered into every corner. 

l6— (24_V5) 


Only to his kind Diocesan would Newman offer any 
explanation or defence. 

He had with him some young men whom he was holding 
back from secession. On August 30, 1843, one of them, T. G. 
Lockhart, " went over." Newman had been unable to keep 
his word to the Bishop, and within a fortnight resigned his cure 
of souls. On Sept. 17 he preached his farewell sermon at St. 
Mary's, and on Sept. 25, the eve of the festival of St Cyprian, 
he delivered in Littlemore Church the sermon called " The 
Parting of Friends." Macaulay knew its exquisite lamenta- 
tions and plangent cadences by heart. Can it be ever read 
without a sob ? It is exasperating to be told that Newman 
will live hereafter as a literary styhst. The great Church 
revival of the nineteenth century was born not in rhetoric but 
in spiritual agony and tears of blood. 

Newman had now given up clerical duty, but was still un- 
convinced that the " heavenly vision " bade him submit to 
Rome. There was her unnatural political alliance with 
Liberals and freethinkers, whose antinomian spirit w^as " the 
characteristic of the destined Antichrist," against what re- 
mained of Catholicism in the English polity. There was the 
" unscrupulous and intriguing " spirit of her agents. And there 
were certain grave corruptions of Christian belief and practice. 
As late as Jan. 8, 1845, Newman wrote : — " The state of the 
Roman Catholics is at present so unsatisfactory that nothing 
but a simple, direct call of duty is a warrant for anyone leaving 
our Church." Also he had " too great a horror of the principle 
of private judgment to trust it in so immense a matter." 
Though in lay communion only, his habits, even in private 
devotion, continued to be those of an English Churchman. 
In Sept., 1844, J. W. Bowden died and Newman " sobbed bit- 
terly over his coffin, to think that he left us still dark as to the 
way of truth, and what I ought to do to please God and fulfil 
His will." But letters of a sacred tenderness were passing to 
and fro between him and one or two — Keble, Church and his 

JOHN HENRY NEWMAN (1801-1890) 243 

sister, Mrs. Mozley — which could leave no doubt what the end 
would be ; otherwise he preserved an " awful silence." Early 
in 1845 Newman began writing his Essay on Development, 
growing as he stood at his desk ever thinner and more trans- 
parent. On Oct. 8 he was received by a Passionist Father at 
Littlemore into what his soul and intellect believed to be " the 
One Fold of Christ." That same day Ernest Renan quitted it. 

Shairp, who was an undergraduate at the time, recalled 
many years after " the aching blank, the awful pause, which 
fell upon Oxford when that voice had ceased, and we knew 
that we should hear it no more. It was as when, to one 
kneeling by night in the silence of some vast cathedral, the great 
bell tolling solemnly overhead has suddenly gone still." ^ The 
author of Lothair declared that it had been " a blow under 
which the Church of England still reeled," and Gladstone said 
that the secession had never yet been estimated at anything 
like the full amount of its calamitous importance. It had 
left wrecks on every shore. But movements, if they have the 
Holy Ghost with them, do not stand and fall with one man, 
even though that man were John Henry Newman. 

There is a spirituel and radiant drawing of Newman made 
in 1844 by the elder Richmond, which Mr. William Barry gives 
in his Memoir. Nearly seventy years have passed, but we have 
still with us one or two who remember him in those days. 
Archdeacon Lear, hale of body and strong of memory, describes 
him to me and recalls his last sermon before the University. 
While these pages are passing through the press, Dr. Robert 
Gregory, " last of the Tractarians," has been called to his rest. 
He used to walk over every Sunday afternoon to hear the 
Littlemore sermons, and was present at the last of all. I had 
his permission to quote here his recollection of Dr. Pusey, 
whose grief was so intense that his sobbing was heard through- 
out the Church. Pusey, then Regius Professor of Hebrew 
but suspended since the previous June from occupying the 

1 Studies : quoted in Donaldson's Five Great Oxford Leaders, p. 115. 


University pulpit, had celebrated in the morning, for it was the 
anniversary of the church's dedication. Gay with flowers, it 
seemed decked as for a funeral. It is noticeable that 
Newman's last sermon in the Church of England, when " the 
evening " was come, was from the same text which he took for 
his first sermon in 1824, when he " went forth to his work and 
to his labour." 

The Parting of Friends 

Man goeth forth to his work and to his labour until the evening. — 
Psalm civ, 23. 

When the Son of Man, the First-born of the creation of God, 
came to the evening of his mortal Ufe, He parted with His 
disciples at a feast. He had borne " the burden and heat 
of the day " ; yet, when " wearied with His journey," He had 
but stopped at the well's side, and asked a draught of water 
for His thirst ; for He had " meat to eat which " others 
" knew not of." His meat was " to do the will of Him that 
sent Him and to finish His work." " I must work the works 
of Him that sent Me," said He, " while it is day ; the night 
Cometh, when no man can work." Thus passed the season of 
His ministry ; and, if at any time He feasted with Pharisee 
or Publican, it was that He might do the work of God more 
strenuously. But " when the even was come. He sat down 
with the Twelve." "And He said unto them. With desire have 
I desired to eat this Passover with you, before I suffer." He 
was about to suffer more than man had ever suffered or shall 
suffer. But there is nothing gloomy, churlish, violent or selfish 
in His grief ; it is tender, affectionate, social. He calls His 
friends around Him, though He was as Job among the ashes ; 
He bids them stay by Him, and see Him suffer ; He desires 
their sympathy ; He takes refuge in their love. He first 
feasted them, and sang a hymn with them, and washed their 
feet ; and, when His long trial began. He beheld them and kept 
them in His presence, till they in terror shrank from it. Yet, 
on St. Mary and St. John, His Virgin Mother and His Virgin 
Disciple, who remained, His eyes still rested ; and in St. Peter, 
who was denying Him in the distance, His sudden glance 
wrought a deep repentance. O wonderful pattern, the type 
of all trial and of all duty under it, while the Church endures ! 

We indeed to-day have no need of so high a lesson and so 


august a comfort. We have no pain, no grief, which calls for 
it ; yet, considering it has been brought before us in this 
morning's service, we are naturally drawn to think of it, 
though it be infinitely above us, under certain circumstances 
of this season and the present time. For now are the shades 
of evening faUing upon the earth, and the year's labour is 
coming to its end. In Septuagesima the sower went forth to 
sow ; — that time is over ; " the harvest is passed, the summer 
is ended," the vintage is gathered. We have kept the Ember 
days for the fruits of the earth in self-abasement, as being 
unworthy even of the least of God's mercies ; and now we are 
offering up of its corn and wine as a propitiation, and eating 
and drinking of them with thanksgiving. 

" AU things come of Thee, and of Thine own have we given 
Thee." If we have had the rain in its season, and the sun 
shining in its strength, and the fertile ground, it is of Thee. 
We give back to Thee what came from Thee. " When Thou 
givest it them, they gather it, and when Thou openest Thy 
hand, they are filled with good. When Thou hidest Thy face, 
they are troubled ; when Thou takest away their breath they 
die, and are turned again to their dust." He gives. He 
takes away. " Shall we receive good at the hands of God, and 
shall we not receive evil ? " May He not " do what He 
wiU with His own ? " May not His sun set as it has risen ? 
and must it not set, if it is to rise again ? and must not 
darkness come first, if there is ever to be morning ? and must 
not the sky be blacker, before it can be brighter ? And cannot 
He, who can do all things, cause a fight to arise even in the 
darkness ? "I have thought upon Thy Name, O Lord, in 
the night season, and have kept Thy law " ; " Thou also 
shalt light my candle, the Lord my God shall make my dark- 
ness to be fight " ; or as the Prophet speaks, " At the evening 
time it shaU be light." 

" All things come of Thee," says holy David, " for we are 
strangers before Thee and sojourners, as were all our fathers ; 
our days on the earth are as a shadow, and there is none 
abiding." AU is vanity, vanity of vanities, and vexation of 
spirit. " What profit hath a man of all his labour which he 
taketh imder the sun ? One generation passeth away, and 
another generation cometh ; but the earth abideth for ever ; 
the sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down ; .... all things 


are full of labour, man cannot utter it ; . . . . that which is 
crooked cannot be made sti-aight, and that which is wanting 
cannot be numbered." " To every thing there is a season, 
and a time to every purpose imder the heaven ; a time to be 
born and a time to die ; a time to plant and a time to pluck 
up that which is planted ; a time to kill and a time to heal ; 
a time to break down and a time to build up ; .... a time to 
get and a time to lose ; a time to keep and a time to cast away." 
And time, and matter, and motion, and force, and the will of 
man, how vain are they all, except as instruments of the grace 
of God, blessing them and working with them ! How vain 
are all our pains, our thought, our care, unless God uses them, 
unless God has inspired them ! how worse than fruitless are 
they, unless directed to His glory, and given back to the Giver ! 

" Of Thine own have we given Thee," says the royal Psalmist, 
after He had collected materials for the Temple. Because 
" the work was great," and " the palace, not for man, bat for 
the Lord God," therefore he " prepared with all his might for 
the house of his God," gold, and silver, and brass, and iron, 
and wood, " onyx stones, and stones to be set, glistering stones, 
and of diverse colours, and all manner of precious stones, and 
marble stones in abundance." And " the people rejoiced, 
for that they offered wilhngly ; . . . and David the king also 
rejoiced with great joy." We too, at this season, year by year, 
have been allowed in our measiure, according to our work and 
our faith, to rejoice in God's presence, for this sacred building 
which He has given us to worship Him in. It was a glad time 
when we first met here — many of us now present recollect it ; 
nor did our rejoicing cease, but was renewed every autumn, 
as the day came round. It has been " a day of gladness and 
feasting, and a good day, and of sending portions one to 
another." We have kept the feast heretofore with merry 
hearts ; we have kept it seven full years unto " a perfect end." 
Now let us keep it, even though in haste, and with bitter herbs, 
and with loins girded, and with a staff in our hand, as they 
who have " no continuing city, but seek one to come." 

So was it with Jacob, when with his staff he passed over that 
Jordan. He too kept feast before he set out upon his dreary 
way. He received a father's blessing, and then was sent afar ; 
he left his mother, never to see her face or hear her voice again. 
He parted with all that his heart loved, and turned his face 


towards the strange land. He went with the doubt whether 
he should have bread to eat, or raiment to put on. He came 
to " the people of the East, and served a hard master twenty 
years. " In the day the drought consumed him, and the frost 
by night ; and his sleep departed from his eyes." O little 
did he think, when father and mother had forsaken him, and 
at Bethel he lay down to sleep on the desolate ground, because 
the sun was set and even had come, that there was the house 
of God and the gate of heaven, that the Lord was in that place, 
and would thence go forward with him whithersoever he went, 
till He brought him back to that river in " two bands," who 
was then crossing it forlorn and solitary ! 

So had it been with Ishmael. Though the feast was not to him 
a blessing, yet he feasted in his father's tent, and then was 
sent away. That tender father who, when a son was pro- 
mised to him of Sarah, caUed out to his Almighty Protector, 
" O that Ishmael might live before Thee ! " — he it was who, 
under a divine direction, the day after the feast, " rose up early 
in the morning, and took bread, and a bottle of water, and 
gave it unto Hagar, putting it on her shoulder, and the child, 
and sent her away. And she departed, and wandered in the 
wilderness of Beersheba." And httle thought that fierce child, 
when for feasting came weariness and thirst and wandering 
in the desert, that this was not the end of Ishmael, but the 
beginning. And little did Hagar read his coming fortunes, 
when " the water was spent in the bottle, and she cast the child 
under one of the shrubs, and she went and sat her down over 
against him a good way off ; ... . for she said. Let me not 
see the death of the child. And she sat over against him, and 
lift up her voice, and wept." 

So had it been with Naomi, though she was not quitting, 
but returning to, her home, and going, not to a land of famine, 
but of plenty. In a time of distress, she had left her country, 
and found friends and made relations among the enemies of 
her people. And when her husband and her children died, 
Moabitish women, who had once been the stumbhng-block 
of Israel, became the support and comfort of her widowhood. 
Time had been when, at the call of the daughters of Moab, 
the chosen people had partaken their sacrifices, and " bowed 
down to their gods. And Israel joined himself unto Baal-peor, 
and the anger of the Lord was kindled against j Israel." 


Centuries had since passed away, and now of Moabites was 
Naomi mother ; and to their land had she given her heart, when 
the call of duty summoned her back to Bethlehem. " She had 
heard in the country of Moab how that the Lord had visited 
His people in giving them bread. Wherefore she went forth 
out of the place where she was, and her two daughters-in-law 
with her, and they went on the way to return unto the land of 
Judah." Forlorn widow, great was the struggle in her bosom, 
whether shall she do ? — leave behind her the two heathen 
women, in widowhood and weakness like herself, her sole stay, 
the shadows of departed blessings ? or shall she selfishly take 
them as fellow-sufferers, who could not be protectors ? Shall 
she seek sympathy when she cannot gain help ? shall she 
deprive them of a home, where she has none to supply ? So 
she said, " Go, return each to her mother's house : the Lord 
deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with the dead and with 
me ! " Perplexed Naomi, torn with contrary feelings ; 
which tried her the more, — Orpah who left her, or Ruth who 
remained ? Orpah who was a pain, or Ruth who was a charge ? 
" They hfted up their voice and wept again ; and Orpah 
kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clave unto her. And 
she said, Behold thy sister-in-law is gone back unto her people 
and unto her gods ; return thou after thy sister-in-law. And 
Ruth said, Entreat me not to leave thee : or to return from 
following after thee : for whither thou goest, I will go ; and 
where thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people shall be my people, 
and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there 
will I be buried ; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought 
but death part thee and me." 

Orpah kissed Naomi, and went back to the world. There 
was sorrow in the parting, but Naomi's sorrow was more for 
Orpah's sake than for her own. Pain there would be, but it 
was the pain of a wound, not the yearning regi'et of love. It 
was the pain we feel when friends disappoint us, and fall in 
our esteem. That kiss of Orpah was no loving token ; it was 
but the hollow profession of those who use smooth words, that 
they may part company with us with least trouble and dis- 
comfort to themselves. Orpah's tears were but the dregs of 
affection ; she clasped her mother-in-law once for all, that 
she might not cleave to her. Far different were the tears, 
far different the embrace, which passed between those two 


religious friends recorded in the book which follows, who 
loved each other with a true love unfeigned, but whose hves 
ran in different courses. If Naomi's grief was great when 
Orpah kissed her, what was David's when he saw the last of 
him whose " soul had from the first been knit with his 
soul," so that " he loved him as his own soul ? " "I am 
distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan," he says ; " very 
pleasant hast thou been unto me ; thy love for me was 
wonderful, passing the love of women." What woe was upon 
that " young man," " of a beautiful countenance and goodly 
to look to," and " cunning in playing, and a mighty vahant 
man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters," when his 
devoted, affectionate and loyal friend, whom these good gifts 
have gained, looked upon him for the last time ! O hard 
destiny, except that the All-merciful so willed it, that such 
companions might not walk in the house of God as friends ! 
David must flee to the wilderness, Jonathan must pine in his 
father's hall ; Jonathan must share that stern father's death 
in battle, and David must ascend the vacant throne. Yet 
they made a covenant on parting : " Thou shalt not only," 
said Jonathan, " while yet I live, show me the kindness of the 
Lord, that I die not ; but also thou shalt not cut off thy kind- 
ness from my house for ever ; no, not when the Lord hath cut 
off the enemies of David, every one from the face of the earth. 
. . . And Jonathan caused David to swear again, because 
he loved him, for he loved him as he loved his own soul." 
And then, while David hid himself, Jonathan made trial of 
Saul, how he felt disposed to David ; and when he found that 
" it was determined of his father to slay David," he " arose 
from the table in fierce anger, and did eat no meat the second 
day of the month ; for he was grieved for David, because his 
father had done him shame." Then in the morning he went 
out into the field, where David lay, and the last meeting took 
place between the two. " David arose out of a place toward 
the south, and fell on his face to the ground, and bowed him- 
self three times ; and they kissed one another, till David 
exceeded. And Jonathan said to David, Go in peace, foras- 
much as we have sworn both of us in the name of the Lord, 
saying. The Lord be between me and thee, and between my 
seed and thy seed for ever. And he arose and departed ; and 
Jonathan went into the city." 


David's affection was given to a single heart ; but there is 
another spoken of in Scripture, who had a thousand friends, 
and loved each as his own soul, and seemed to Uve a thousand 
hves in them, and died a thousand deaths when he must quit 
them — that great Apostle, whose very heart was broken when 
his brethren wept ; who " was glad when he was weak and they 
were strong," and who was " wilhng to have imparted unto 
them his own soul, because they were dear unto him." Yet 
we read of his bidding farewell to whole Churches never to see 
them again. At one time, to the little ones of the flock ; 
" When we had accomplished those days," said the Evangelist, 
" we departed and went our way .... with wives and 
children, till we were out of the city ; and we kneeled down 
on the shore and prayed. And when we had taken our leave 
one of another, we took ship, and they returned home again." 
At another time, to the rulers of the Church : " And now 
behold," he says to them, " I know that ye all, among whom 
I have gone preaching the kingdom of God, shall see my face 
no more. Wherefore I take you to record this day, that I 
am pure from the blood of all men, for I have not shunned to 
declare unto you all the counsel of God. ... I have coveted 
no man's silver, or gold, or apparel ;....! have shown you 
all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, 
and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how He said, 
It is more blessed to give than to receive." And then, when 
he had finished, " he kneeled down, and prayed with them all. 
And they all wept sore, and fell on Paul's neck, and kissed 
him ; sorrowing most of all for the words which he spake, 
that they should see his face no more. And they accompanied 
him unto the ship." 

There was another time when he took leave of his " own 
son in the faith," Timothy, in words more calm, and still more 
impressive, when his end was nigh. " I am now ready to be 
offered," he says, " and the time of my departure is at hand. 
I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have 
kept the faith. Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown 
of righteousness, which the Lord, the Righteous Judge, shall 
give me at that day." 

And what are all these instances but memorials and tokens 
of the Son of Man, when His work and His labour were coming 
to an end ? Like Jacob, like Ishmael, hke EHsha, hke the 


Evangelist whose day is just passed, He kept feast before His 
departure ; and, like David, He was persecuted by the rulers 
in Israel ; and, like Ishmael, He cried out, " I thirst " in a 
barren and dry land ; and at length, like Jacob, He went to 
sleep with a stone for His pillow, in the evening. And, like 
St. Paul, He had " finished the work which God gave Him to 
do," and had " witnessed a good confession," and, beyond St. 
Paul, " the Prince of this world had come, and had nothing 
in Him." " He was in the world, and the world was made 
by Him, and the world knew Him not. He came unto His own 
and His own received Him not." Heavily did he leave, ten- 
derly did He mourn over the country and city which rejected 
Him. " When He was come near, He beheld the city, and 
wept over it, saying, If thou hadst known, even thou, at least 
in this thy day, the things which belong unto thy peace ! but 
now they are hid from thine eyes." And again : " O Jerusalem, 
Jerusalem, which killest the prophets, and stonest them that 
are sent unto thee, how often would I have gathered thy 
children together, as a hen doth gather her brood under her 
wings, and ye would not ! Behold your house is left mito you 

A lesson surely, and a warning to us all, in every place where 
He puts His Name, to the end of time ; lest we be cold towards 
His gifts, or unbelieving towards His word, or jealous of his 
workings, or heartless towards His mercies. O mother 
of Saints ! O school of the wise ! O nurse of the heroic ! of 
whom went forth, in whom have dwelt, memorable names 
of old, to spread the truth abroad, or to cherish and illustrate 
it at home ! O thou, from whom surrounding nations lit their 
lamps ! O virgin of Israel ! wherefore dost thou now sit on the 
ground and keep silence, like one of those fooHsh women who 
were without oil on the coming of the Bridegroom ? Where 
is now the ruler in Sion, and the doctor in the Temple, and the 
ascetic on Carmel, and the herald in the wilderness, and the 
preacher in the market-place ? Where are thy " effectual 
fervent prayers," offered in secret, and thy alms and good 
works coming up as a memorial before God ? How is it, O 
once holy place, that " the land moumeth, for the corn is 
wasted, the new wine is dried up, the oil languisheth, .... 
because joy is withered away from the sons of men ? " "Alas 
for the day ! . . . how do the beasts groan ! the herds of 


cattle are perplexed, because they have no pasture, yea, the 
flocks of sheep are made desolate." " Lebanon is ashamed 
and hewn down ; Sharon is like a wilderness, and Bashan and 
Carmel shake off their fruits." O my mother, whence is this 
unto thee, that thou hast good things poured upon thee and 
canst not keep them, and bearest children, and darest not 
own them ? Why hast thou not the skill to use their services, 
nor the heart to rejoice in their love ? How is it that whatever 
is generous in purpose, and tender or deep in devotion, thy 
flower and thy promise, falls from thy bosom and finds no home 
within thine arms ? Who hath put this note upon thee, to 
have " a miscarrying womb and dry breasts," to be strange 
to thine own flesh, and thine eye cruel towards thy little ones ? 
Thine own offspring, the fruit of thy womb, who love thee and 
would toil for thee, thou dost gaze upon with fear, as though 
a portent, or thou dost loathe as an offence — at best thou 
dost but endure, as if they had no claim but on thy patience, 
self-possession, and vigilance, to be rid of them as easily as 
thou mayest. Thou makest them " stand all the day idle," 
as the very condition of thy bearing with them ; or thou bid- 
dest them be gone, where they will be more welcome ; or thou 
sellest them for nought to the stranger that passes by. And 
what wilt thou do in the end thereof ? . . . . Scripture is a 
refuge in any trouble ; only let us be on our guard against 
seeming to use it further than is fitting, or doing more than 
sheltering ourselves under its shadow. Let us use it according 
to our measure. It is far higher and wider than our need ; 
and it conceals our feelings while it gives expression to them. 
It is sacred and heavenly ; and it restrains and purifies, while 
it sanctions them. 

And now, my brethren, " bless God, praise Him and magnify 
Him, and praise Him for the things which He hath done unto 
you in the sight of all that five. It is good to praise God, and 
exalt His Name, and honourably to show forth the works of 
God ; therefore be not slack to praise Him." " All the works 
of the Lord are good, and He will give thee every needful 
thing in due season ; so that a man cannot say, This is worse 
than that ; for in time they shall all be well approved. And 
therefore praise ye the Lord with the whole heart and mouth, 
and bless the Name of the Lord." 

" Leave off from wrath, and let go displeasure ; flee from 


evil, and do the thing that is good." " Do that which is good, 
and no evil shall touch you." " Go your way ; eat your bread 
with joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God 
now accepteth your works ; let your garments be always 
white, and let your head lack no ointment." 

And O, my brethren, O kind and affectionate hearts, O 
loving friends, should you know anyone whose lot it has been 
by writing or by word of mouth in some degree to help you 
thus to act ; if he has ever told you what you know about 
yourselves, or what you did not know ; has read to you your 
wants or feelings, and comforted you by the very reading : 
has made you feel that there was a higher Ufe than this daily 
one, and a brighter world than that you see ; or encouraged you 
or sobered you, or opened a way to the inquiring, or soothed the 
perplexed ; if what he has said or done has ever made you 
take interest in him, and feel well inchned towards him ; 
remember such a one in time to come, though you hear him 
not, and pray for him, that in all things he may know God's 
will, and at all times he may be ready to fulfil it. 


Dean Church, in a striking simile, has compared the secession 
of Newman in October, 1845, to the blowing up of the Orient 
during the battle of the Nile, upon which followed, for a short 
space, an awed silence and cessation of fighting. Tractarianism, 
which had for nine years advanced with full sails, was now 
in dismayed and broken flight before the triumphant Liberals. 
Moreover its line of advance had been cut across by the 
Romanizing section headed by Oakley and " Ideal " Ward, 
who was stripped of his degrees on Feb. 13, 1845. Never- 
theless, when Dr. Pusey preached his first academic sermon 
after the termination of his suspension, on Feb. 1, 1846, upon 
" The Entire Absolution of the Penitent," scarcely a murmur 
of hostihty was heard. For one thing, the formularies of the 
Church of England are so much more explicit and unmistakable 
on the doctrine of Absolution than they are on Eucharistic 
doctrine that it would have been very dangerous to assail the 
sermon. The subject had been carefully chosen, after consul- 
tation with Keble. Yet it was a natural sequel to the suspended 
sermon, as the opening words declare. Pusey afterwards 
hoped it had " helped to quiet minds that were disturbed." 

The story of the condemnation of the earlier sermon (" The 
Holy Eucharist, A Comfort to the Penitent ") may be briefly 
extracted from Dean Church's Oxford Movement, chapters 
xiii and xvi. 

" While the movement was making itself felt as a moral 
force, without parallel in Oxford for more than two centuries, 
what was the attitude of the University authorities ? 

" It was that of contemptuous indifference passing into help- 
less and passionate hostihty. There is no sadder passage in 
the history of Oxford than the behaviour and policy of the 


EDWARD BOUVERIE PUSEY (1800-1882) 255 

heads of this great Christian University towards the rehgious 
movement which was stirring the interest, the hopes, the fears 
of Oxford. The movement was, for its first years at least, a 
loyal and earnest effort to create a sincere and intelligent 
zeal for the Church, and at making the Church itself worthy 
of the great position which her friends claimed for her. Its 
leaders were men in the first rank in point of ability and 
character, men of religious and pure, if also severe, hves. 
They were not men merely of speculation and criticism, but 
men ready to forgo anything, to devote everything, for the 
practical work of elevating religious thought and life. All 
this did not necessarily make their purposes and attempts 
wise and good ; but it did entitle them to respectful attention. 
If they spoke language new to the popular mind or the ' reli- 
gious world,' it was not new to orthodox Churchmen, with 
opportunities of study and acquainted with our best divinity. 
If their temper was eager and enthusiastic, they alleged the 
presence of a great and perilous crisis. Their appeal was mainly 
not to the general public, but to the sober and learned. The 
men of the movement were not mere hostile innovators ; 
they were fighting for what the University and its chiefs held 
dear and sacred. These . . . were bUnd and dull as tea- 
table gossips to the meaning of the movement. In their 
apathy, in their self-satisfied ignorance, in their dullness of 
apprehension and forethought, the authorities of the Uni- 
versity let pass the great opportunity of their time. , . But 
on the side of the party of the rapidly growing movement 
there were mistakes also. No one gave more serious warning 
against this and other dangers than the leaders." 

After describing the rally effected by the opponents of the 
movement after the first years of astonishing success, the policy 
of combat decided on, and the singhng out of Pusey himself, 
the Regius Professor of Hebrew, for " the severest blow yet 
struck," Dean Church remarks : — 

" Dr. Pusey was a person with whom it was not wise to meddle, 


unless his assailants could make out a case without a flaw. He 
was without question the most venerated person in Oxford. 
Without an equal, in Oxford at least, in the depth and range 
of his learning, he stood out yet more impressively among his 
fellows in the lofty moral elevation and simplicity of his life, 
the blamelessness of his youth, and the profound devotion of 
his manhood. Stern and severe in his teaching at one time 
beyond even the severity of Puritanism, he was yet overflowing 
with affection, tender and sympathetic to all who came near 
him, and in the midst of continual controversy he endeavoured, 
with deep conscientiousness, to avoid the bitterness of 

" On the 24th of May, 1843, Dr. Pusey, intending to balance 
and complement the severe and, to many, the disquieting 
aspects of doctrine in his work on Baptism, preached on the 
Holy Eucharist as a comfort to the penitent. He spoke of it 
as a disciple of Andrewes and Bramhall might speak of it ; 
it was a high Anglican sermon, full, after the example of the 
Homilies, Jeremy Taylor and devotional writers like George 
Herbert and Bishop Ken, of the fervid language of the Fathers ; 
and that was all. Beyond this it did not go ; its phraseology 
was strictly within Anglican limits. In the course of the 
week that followed, the University was surprised by the 
announcement that Dr. Faussett, the Margaret Professor of 
Divinity, had ' delated ' the sermon to the Vice-chancellor 
as teaching heresy." 

The statutory Six Doctors, one of whom was Dr. Faussett 
himself, were appointed to consider the sermon, and on 
June 2nd it came to be known that Dr. Pusey had been con- 
demned for teaching doctrine contrary to that of the Church 
of England, and that the Vice-chancellor had suspended him 
from preaching for two years. Just two years before, when in 
Ireland, he had had the painful experience of being requested 
by his old Oriel friend and colleague. Archbishop Whately, 
not to enter the pulpit. Pusey was one of Dr. Arnold's 


"handful of obscure fanatics" who "turn sense into silliness 
and holiness into formality and hypocrisy." 

Between June, 1843, and February, 1846, grave events had 
happened. Pusey was " half broken-hearted," but his loyalty 
stood like the Peak of Teneriffe, above the storm and the 
cloud. His voice now sounded out once more, solemn, austere, 
holy and beautiful, like the voice of an archangel given to the 
Church of England to guide her through terror and gloom. 

In Liddon's Life of Dr. Pusey there is a sketch, made at the 
time, of Pusey in the pulpit of Christ Church, Oxford, preaching 
the sermon which is here given. Dr. Liddon's graphic des- 
cription of the scene should be referred to. At the end of the 
sermon was a valuable Appendix of citations " from Writers 
of our later English Church on the doctrine of the Holy 
Eucharist," beginning with Ridley. My dear and venerable 
friend, Archdeacon Francis Lear, who also remembers 
Newman's last University sermon and who was present when 
Keble was inducted into the rectory of Hursley, has a vivid 
recollection of the historic occasion. 

The Entire Absolution of the Penitent 

Then said Jesus unto them again. Peace be unto you. As My Father hath 
sent Me, even so send I you. And when he had said this, He breathed on them, 
and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost ; Whose soever sins ye remit, 
they are remitted unto them ; and whoso soever sins ye retain, they are retained. 
St. John xx, 21-23. 

It will be in the memory of some that when, nearly three years 
past, Almighty God (for " secret faults," which He knoweth, 
and from which, I trust, He willed thereby the rather to 
" cleanse" me,) allowed me to be deprived for a time of this 
my office among you, I was endeavouring to mitigate the stern 
doctrine of the heavy character of a Christian's sins by pointing 
out the mercies of God which might reassure the penitent, 
the means of his restoration, the earnests of his pardon. And in 
so doing it seemed best, first to dwell upon the unfathomable 
mercies of God in Christ, the exhaustless abyss of mercy in 
the Infinite Fountain of Mercy — when it is not finally shut out- 
infinite as Himself, as being poured out from His Infinity ; 

X7— (2433) 


and then, more directly, on all those untold and ineffable 
mercies contained in the Intercession of our Lord, at the Right 
Hand of God, for us. For so, I hoped, would the hearts of 
penitents be the more fixed upon Him, the source of all mercies, 
and their faith be strengthened, and they the more hope that 
no depth of past sin could utterly sever them from the love of 
Christ, nay, could sever them from no degree or fulness of 
His unspeakable love. For what hmit shall there be to His 
tender mercy. Who devised that wondrous scheme of man's 
redemption, and gave His Only-Begotten, Co-equal, Son, 
that man, the work of His hands, should not perish ? What 
bounds to the compass of His love, who, being Eternal God, 
so compassionated us as to take our nature upon Him, that He 
might die for us ; and not die only, " but live to make inter- 
cession for us ? " What bounds to His power to restore, 
who hath " all power in Heaven and in earth," and as yet 
exerciseth that power to restore us ? What an infinite depth 
must there be in that love which joined our lowliness to His 
Majesty, took our misery, to impart to us His Mercy, His 
Love and His Joy ! And so I hoped that both they who, 
educated in imperfect systems, suspect all who speak of the 
channels of Divine Mercy, as though they forgot Him, its 
everfiowing Source, might be less indisposed to the truth ; 
and that they who received the truth might have their souls 
the more fixed upon Him Who is the truth, and by Whom 
to us is all grace and truth. And when, further, I began to 
speak of the means by which God applies that grace, I wished to 
dwell upon those sacred Gifts by which He vouchsafes to 
impart it to us, before I spoke of those acts of our own, yet 
equally His Gifts in us, by which He worketh it in us ; that 
so we might the more have it impressed upon us, that all is 
of Him. And, of these Gifts, I spoke first of the Holy Eucharist, 
rather than of the special application of the power of the Keys, 
because I hoped that on that great Gift, whereof we all habitu- 
ally partake, we might be the rather one, and not dispute 
(as I never meant to speak controversially) upon the Gifts 
which He left as " the pledges of His love " ; whereas, since 
the special use of the power of the Keys was, in the last un- 
happy century, so much laid aside, and has been but partially 
resumed, and the very language of our Divines or the Refor- 
mers is so unfamiliar at least to men's minds and sympathies, 


I could not but fear that it might to many seem an unaccus- 
tomed teaching, distinctly as it is owned by our Church. I 
dwelt then first on the comfort of the Holy Eucharist to the 
penitent, as a Sacrament and as a commemorative Sacrifice. 
As a Sacrament, because, in the words of our Liturgy, in It 
" our sinful bodies are made clean by His Body, and our souls 
washed through His most Precious Blood " ; as a commemora- 
tive Sacrifice, I will simply rehearse to you some of the words 
of the apostolic Bishop Wilson, who, in his Sacra Privata, 
thus prays : " May it please Thee, O God, who hast called 
us to this ministry, to make us worthy to offer unto Thee this 
Sacrifice for our own sins and for the sins of Thy people." 

And now, brethren, I would proceed to speak of that great 
authoritative act whereby God in the Church still forgives 
the sins of the penitent. For all forgiveness of sin, as every 
gift of mercy or of grace, by whomsoever or howsoever it comes 
to us, is from Him. Baptizing, absolving, teaching, conse- 
crating, the Church or her Ministers are not instead of, but the 
instruments of, Christ. " God alone," says S. Pacian, " can 
forgive sin. True ! But that also which He doth through 
His priests is His own power." " The Novatians," says S. 
Ambrose, " say that they show reverence to the Lord, reserving 
to Him alone the power of forgiving sins. But indeed none 
do Him greater wrong than they who would rescind His 
commands, and cast back upon Himself the office He com- 
mitted to them. For since the Lord Jesus Himself said in 
His Gospel, ' Receive the Holy Ghost ; whose sins ye remit 
they are remitted unto them, and whose sins ye retain, they are 
retained,' who honours Him most, he who obeyeth His com- 
mands or he who resisteth ? The Church in both observeth 
obedience, both in binding and loosing sin." " Why," he says 
again, " baptize ye, if sins may not be remitted through man ? 
For in Baptism is the remission of all sins. Where is the 
difference, whether through penitence or through the laver 
the priests exert this power given to them ? One is the 
mystery in both. But thou say est that in the laver the grace 
of the mysteries worketh. What in penitence ? Worketh 
not the name of God ? " And again, on those solemn words, 
" It is impossible to renew them," " God is able, when He 
willeth, to forgive us sins, even those which we think cannot 
be forgiven. And, therefore, what to us seemeth impossible 


to be obtained, to God it is possible to grant. It seemed im- 
possible that water should wash away sin, or that sins should 
be forgiven through penitence ; Christ granted this to His 
Apostles, which from the Apostles was transmitted to the office 
of the priests ; that, therefore, was rendered possible which 
seemed impossible." Once more : " It cannot be doubted 
that the Spirit forgiveth sins, since the Lord Himself saith, 
' Receive the Holy Ghost ; whose sins ye remit, they shall be 
remitted.' See how sins are forgiven by the Holy Ghost. 
But to the remission of sins men supply their ministry, yet 
do not exercise the right of any power ; for they do not forgive 
sins in their own, but in the Name of the Father and the Son 
and the Holy Ghost. They pray ; God giveth. The execution 
is through man ; the richness of the gift is from the Power on 
High." And Origen on the same point : " He on whom Jesus 
hath breathed forgiveth whom God would forgive, and re- 
taineth incurable sins, ministering unto God, Who alone hath 
the power of forgiving, even as the prophets ministered \mto 
God in speaking not their own, but what was of the Divine, 
will." And S. Chrysostom : " Whatsoever the priest hath 
entrusted to him is of God alone to give — and why say I 
priests ? Neither Angel nor Archangel can effect anything 
as to the things given by God, but the Father, Son and Holy 
Spirit dispenseth all ; yet the priest lendeth his tongue and 
affordeth his hand." And in like manner S. Augustine. 

And this efficacy, we, to whom God has given our lot in this 
portion of the Church, must in general beUeve ; our own acts 
of devotion bear witness to us. For this was the express 
reason why, in our daily service, a solemn Confession and 
Absolution precede the use of the Lord's Prayer and the 
Psalms, that so we might become fitter to use His Divine words, 
and to praise Him. We are directed to receive the Absolution 
kneehng, both at the daily service and at the Holy Communion : 
a humble posture, which we do not use at any mere exhortation 
or declaration or teaching. Itself is entitled, " The Absolution 
or remission of sins, to be pronounced by the priest alone " 
— for which, in a daughter-Church, "the declaration oiAhsohition 
to be made by the priest alone," was substituted in compro- 
mising times. " Almighty God," it solemnly rehearseth, 
" hath given power and commandment " to His ministers, 
not " to declare " only, but " to pronounce to His people. 


being penitent, the absolution and remission of their sins." 
Now " power " impHes an authoritative act ; and to " pro- 
nounce our pardon," if penitent, is a present act, not a mere 
abstract declaration that God forgiveth the penitent. Such 
is our least solemn form of Absolution. And it has been often 
observed how, as the penitence may in each case be supposed 
to be deeper, the Absolution by the Church becomes more 
authoritative and fuller ; until, at last, in the private absolu- 
tion, when the conscience most feels its burden, and has laid 
it down at the Feet of our Lord, she speaks, with the full con- 
sciousness of the authority, by Apostolic descent transmitted 
to her, words which, if not authorised, were blasphemy — " By 
His authority committed unto me, I absolve thee from all thy 
sins, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the 
Holy Ghost." Nor can there be, in this, any question of 
freeing from the censures of the Church, and of restoring to 
communion, from which among ourselves none, except on 
individual responsibihty, are in practice shut out, who do not 
shut out themselves. It is a private act between the sinner's 
soul and God, in the presence of His priest, the sinner seeking 
to have the burden of his sin relieved, the priest declaring, in 
the Name of the Holy Trinity, " By His Authority, committed 
unto me, I absolve thee." And to this such among us as are 
parochial ministers are bound to invite their people, to " open 
their grief," not in sickness only, but before the Holy Com- 
munion, if they cannot " quiet their own consciences," that 
they " may receive the benefit of Absolution." And in visiting 
the sick our Church directs those who will obey her, " to 
move the sick person to make a special confession of his sins, 
if he feel his conscience troubled with any weighty matter " ; 
not to wait for him, but ourselves to " move him thereto " ; 
and then, " if he humbly and heartily desire it," thus to 
absolve him. And " His Authority " so to do was, we know, 
conveyed to us in the very words in which it was given by 
our Lord to the Apostles ; so that whatever authority they 
conveyed to the Apostles they do, thus far, convey to us 
also : " which although," says S. Pacian, " for our sins it be 
presumptuous to claim, yet God, who hath granted unto 
Bishops the name of even His Only Beloved, will not deny it 
unto them." 

And all this doctrine of our Church as to Absolution is the 


more solemn, as not being a profession only in the sight of men, 
but embodied in acts in the name of Almighty God Himself — 
in His daily worship ; at the Holy Communion, or in earnest 
preparation for it ; and when the soul is approaching for its 
last conflict, for that moment which sums up all the past, 
and shall decide eternity. The sacred stillness at the Holy 
Communion, when, after the deep confession which our Church 
gives us, one voice alone is heard, and we, the rest, in silence 
receive it ; the intense earnest longing with which the penitent 
awaits those words of awful comfort which the Church com- 
missions her priests to pronounce, or the thrill of awe which 
any of us must ourselves have felt when we sinners had to 
take on our lips her words, " by His Authority I absolve thee," 
and that in the Name of the All-Holy Trinity, may well make 
us think more deeply, how very solemn the doctrine is which 
is so embodied. 

There is a further, in some sense more awful and more painful, 
part of the doctrine of the Keys, to which our Church also bears 
witness, the power not to loose only, but to bind ; not to remit 
only, but to retain sin. She yearly expresses her sorrow at the 
loss of the " godly discipline " whereby " persons who stood 
convicted of notorious sin were put to open penance, and 
punished in this world, that their souls might be saved in the 
Day of the Lord " ; and in her Articles (Art. XXXIH) she 
speaks of such as, being " cut off from the unity of the Church," 
are to be counted " as heathens," " until they be openly 
reconciled by penance." But this whole subject of discipline 
does not belong to me. Nor need I speak of that power of 
" binding " which, equally with that of " loosing," is in our 
Church conferred on her priests in the Name of the Holy 
Trinity ; since such a power is to be exercised only towards 
the impenitent : our office is chiefly with the penitent. The 
one object, as I have explained, of this series of sermons is to 
minister to one class of souls, those whose consciences being 
oppressed by the memory of past sin, more or less grievous, 
long to know how they may be replaced in that condition in 
which God once placed them ; and now, too, my object is, 
not to speak of discipline in general, or what were best for the 
Church or for her members generally, but of that mercy which, 
by the power of the Keys, God pours out upon the penitent. 

This, then, is probably one ground why so little needed to 


be said in the New Testament as to the forgiveness of sins of 
a Christian very grievously fallen, that our Lord had left a 
Hving provision in His Church, whereby aU penitents, however 
fallen, should be restored. In healthfiil times, when disciphne 
was observed, and people were in earnest about their souls, 
and felt the pressure of their sins, and the darkness of the 
absence of Divine grace, and a healthful fear of the wrath of 
God, there needed not proof that sins could be forgiven, 
because their forgiveness was seen, and witnessed, and felt, 
and shone forth in the renewed health and hfe of the soul. 
When the Church, " with whom," in the language of a Father, 
" there was one hope, one fear, one joy, one suffering, because 
there is One Spirit from One Lord and Father, grieved 
together," over the fall of " one of her numbers," " together 
laboured for its cure," and was gladdened by the holy con- 
versation of restored penitents, and their victories in conflicts 
wherein they had before been vanquished, she knew that the 
gift of reconcihation had been lodged in her, in which the whole 
Body took part. Mourning with those who mourned, she knew 
the rather that they were comforted, whose restoration was 
furthered by her love and deep sighs and prayers. The dis- 
cipline under which the penitent was brought, and was humbled, 
was the very token of his restoration. He felt the power 
lodged in the Church to bind, and its very exercise assured him 
that he might be loosed. He saw those, once, with himself, 
oppressed by Satan, set free ; and he knew that the inward 
bonds by which Satan held him, the cords of his sins and the 
iron chains of evil habits, might be loosed. The Church could 
give account of the source of her powers to any who might be 
entitled to ask her, and could appeal to the commission given 
her by her Lord ; the workings of that power were the pledge 
to individuals. When she, in her Lord's Name, said to the 
lame, " Arise, and walk," and to the leper, " Be cleansed," 
and to the blind, " Wash in the pool of Siloam," i.e., of " Him 
who is sent," and the palsy of past sin was healed, and men 
" ran the way of God's commandments," the leprosy and defile- 
ment of sin fell off, and " their flesh was turned to them hke 
the flesh of a httle child " ; and they who had been dried up 
by the decrepitude of sin became anew " like little children," 
" of whom is the kingdom of heaven " ; and the blind through 
trespasses and sins " saw everything clearly " ; and those whose 


very senses were defiled could taste anew the sweetness of 
heavenly things, " and the good word of God, and the powers 
of the world to come " — when through His Gifts in the Church 
God wrought such spiritual miracles as these, no one needed 
to ask, " By what power or authority doest thou these things ? " 
When by her healing she showed that she was clad with the 
power of her Lord, none needed to question whether she had 
the authority of her Lord Who by her healed. When the lame 
arose and walked, none after that asked Him, " Who is this 
that forgiveth sins also ? " 

And if any ask her yet, when she hath said to one crippled by 
sin, " In the Name of Jesus of Nazareth, rise up and walk," — 
" By what power or by what name have ye done this ? " — her 
answer is still that of S. Peter : " His Name, through faith in 
His Name, hath made this man strong ; yea, the faith which 
is by Him hath given him this perfect soundness in the pre- 
sence of you all." His Name is it, through faith in His Name, 
which healeth, although pronounced by her, at His bidding. 

Thus the practice of the Church became the comment upon 
Holy Scripture, upon which that practice rested ; as, in other 
practice, the Apostolic rite of infant baptism pointed out a 
meaning of our Lord's words, — " Suffer little children to come 
unto me," — about which we might otherwise have doubted ; 
or, in doctrine, the Creeds, which rest on Holy Scripture, 
teach us meanings of the Divine Word, and saving truths of 
faith, which, but for them, we should never have perceived. 
To the believer, because he believes, the full truth of the 
Gospel sheds its light upon the whole of Holy Scripture, 
and is reflected and flashes forth from it. The Church pro- 
poses, faith receives, the Holy Ghost teaches. Scripture estab- 
lishes, holy living roots it fast in us, devotion makes it part of 
ourselves ; or rather, the same Holy Spirit worketh all in us, 
teaching us, and making our hearts teachable ; imparting to 
us the truth, in form in the Creeds, in substance in Holy 
Scripture, and opening our hearts to believe, and love, and 
worship, until through love and devotion we live in and on that 
faith, as the breath of our spiritual hfe — ever, as in our 
natural life, renewed and sustained by Him, ever unconsciously 
anew received by us, yet never parted with, until, as part of 
ourselves, it passeth with us into that blessed world where 
it melts into sight of Him whom here, not seeing, it loved. 


This commission, upon which the authority of the Church 
rests, as it has ever been understood by the Church itself, 
was given, in part in different words, at three different times. 
Before the Resurrection, first to S. Peter, as a type of unity : 
" I give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and 
whatsoever thou shaft bind on earth shaU be bound in heaven, 
and whatsoever thou shaft loose on earth shall be loosed in 
heaven " ; and then, in the same words, to all the Apostles. 
Both these in promise ; and then to all in fulfilment, in that 
solemn inauguration, the commencement of their Apostolate, 
with the visible token that the Comforter, Who proceeded from 
Him, came upon them : " As My Father hath sent Me, even so 
send I you." Full of majesty and awe is the commission, full 
of instruction. The greatness of the power intrusted to man 
might well exceed our belief, and make us tremble to execute 
it, and almost doubt, as men have doubted, whether they had 
it. " What angel in Heaven," says our own Hooker, " could 
have said to man as our Lord did to Peter, ' Feed My Sheep : 
Preach, Baptize : Do this in remembrance of Me. Whose 
sins ye retain, they are retained ; and their offences in heaven 
pardoned whose faults ye shaU on earth forgive ' ? What 
think we ? are these terrestrial sounds, or else are they voices 
uttered out of the clouds above ? " So then our Lord premises 
His commission with those full brief words, conveying at once 
both the extent of the commission, and a rule and guidance in 
it. "As My Father hath sent Me, even so send I you." The 
very words are beforehand a comfort to the penitent. For to 
whom was our Lord sent, but to the lost sheep of the house of 
Israel, to seek and to save that which was lost, to " those who 
needed a physician " and knew their need, to " call not the 
righteous but sinners to repentance ? " "He sets forth at 
once," says S. Cyril, " the dignity of the Apostolate and the 
incomparable glory of the power given them, and suggests, 
as it seems, the path of Apostolic offices. For if He deemed 
right so to send His own disciples as the Father sent Him, 
how must not they who are to be followers of them needs have 
in view, to what end the Father sent His Son ? Comprehending 
then in few words the Apostohc office. He said that He sent 
them as the Father sent Him, that they might thence know 
that they ought to call sinners to repentance, to heal the sick 
in body or in spirit, in all the orderings of their doings not to 


seek anyhow their own will ; and, as far as was possible, by 
their Doctrine to save the world." 

And as He Himself was " anointed by the Spirit to bind up 
the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and 
the opening of the prison to them that are bound," so, when 
He sent them in His stead. He imparted to them the Comforter, 
Who, being from Himself as from the Father, was to replace 
Himself. " When He had said this, He breathed upon them, 
and saith imto them. Receive the Holy Spirit." As an earnest 
at once of the gift to be bestowed at the Day of Pentecost, 
and a gift of sanctification for this immediate office, and to 
show that the Holy Spirit, Who should come from above, is 
from Him also, and Consubstantial with Himself, and that He 
who created man in His own Image, breathing into His nostrils 
the breath of life, was now about to re-create them in a more 
Divine and perfect way by union with Himself, " He breathed 
upon them," and imparted to them the Holy Ghost. And 
then He saith to them the solemn words, " Whosoever sins 
ye remit, they are remitted unto them ; and whosoever sins 
ye retain, they are retained." 

But when we miderstand our Blessed Lord in the plain 
meaning of His words, of a power lodged in His Church to for- 
give sins in His Name, then the very words themselves express 
the fulness of the pardon. As our Lord sent His Apostles in 
the same way in which the Father had sent Him, so the word 
by which He expresses the power to forgive is the very word 
by which He Himself forgave. " Whose soever sins ye forgive, 
they are forgiven unto them " {dffyecovraL) is the blessed 
echo of His own words, " Son, be of good cheer, thy sins are 
forgiven thee " {a4>ia>vTai) — the very word by which He 
prayed for His murderers and all penitents upon the Cross, 
and teaches us in His own prayer, when we pray, to ask for 
forgiveness ; the very word under which He declared that 
" all sins and blasphemy shall be forgiven mito men " spake of 
the entire forgivenness by our Heavenly Father to those who 
repent. For the fulness of which, the Scribes disputed His 
authority, " Who is this that forgiveth sins also ? " By which 
He claimed that power to Himself, " That ye may know that 
the Son of Man hath power upon earth to forgive sins." And 
now in the same words He leaves it to those whom He left in 
His Name to carry on His work on earth. But if any 


would restrain this to the Apostles only, " why," as S. Pacian 
says, " do they not in the like way restrain Baptism also " ? 
Either, both were confined to the Apostles only, or both were 
committed to that Church with which our Lord promised to 
be " always to the end of the world " ; by Baptism, to remit 
aU sin original or actual, by Absolution, to remit all which, 
by the frailty of our nature, any may afterwards contract ; 
by Baptism to bring into His fold, by Absolution to restore 
those who had wandered from it. 

What sins then may there be remitted ? All which are not 
excepted ; and these are none. " He saith," says S. Pacian, 
" ' whatsoever ye shall loose.' He excepted nothing whatever. 
' Whatsoever,' He says, great or small." All may be forgiven, 
for which God puts into the heart the desire to be forgiven. 
The unpardonable sin is therefore alone not forgiven (S. 
Augustine says) because the sinner asks not for forgiveness.' 

Nothing can be more absolute than the words, " Whose 
soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them." No sin 
then is excepted for its greatness ; none for their multitude. 
He saith, " Whatsoever ye loose on earth shall be loosed in 
heaven " ; no sinner is excepted, however deeply ingrained 
by old, inveterate, accumulated sins ; though his sins be upon 
him, and weigh him down that he be not able to look up, and 
defile his memory, and cloud his faith, and destroy the power 
of other ordinances, and chill the heart, and weaken the will, 
or even bring on him relapses, let him, with earnest purpose, 
lay down all his sins at our dear Lord's Feet, hating them for 
His love's sake Who has so loved him ; and He has said, 
" Whose soever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto 

Nor again does he put us off for that forgiveness to a distant 
day. The effects of sin upon the soul may often be to be 
worked out by sorrow and toil ; the forfeited crown and larger 
favour of Almighty God to be gained by subsequent self-denial 
or suffering for Him or devoted service. But we have the very 
craving of our hearts. Our sins, when we are fit to receive the 
blessed words, are forgiven at once. " They are," our gracious 
Lord says, " forgiven unto them {a4>€covTai) " ; as though 
He would express the swiftness of His pardon, in the same way 
as it is promised in the prophet, " Thou shalt call and the 
Lord shall answer ; thou shalt cry and He shall say, Here I 


am " ; so now, so soon as His priest has, in His Name, 
pronounced his forgiveness on earth, the sins of the true 
penitent are forgiven in Heaven, " Whose soever sins ye remit, 
they are remitted rmto them." 

The word dcfiicovTac contains in one a whole Gospel of 
forgiveness — a whole volume, filled within and without, and 
traced by the finger of our God and Saviour Jesus Christ, all 
that the penitent's heart craves for, full, present, absolute, 
universal forgiveness and release. 

And then, too, the Psalms which the Church daily puts into 
our mouths ; the histories of penitents which she recites to us as 
examples ; the Evangelic prophets ; all, with the depth of their 
sorrows and the gladness of their restoration, may belong to 
us ; all, in.the words of our good Bishop Andrewes, " The writ- 
ings of the law, the oracles of Prophets, the melody of Psalms, 
the instruction of Proverbs, the experience of Histories," each 
supply some separate note in the divine harmony of that 
Angel-chorus, " Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
peace, good-will towards men." 

Surely, then, our reverent Hooker has well said, " I hold it 
for a most infallible rule in expositions of sacred Scripture, 
that, when a literal construction will stand, the farthest from 
the letter is commonly the worst." 

Why then do men shrink back from this plain meaning of 
our Lord's words ? Why but for some imaginations of inherent 
unfitness, that they cannot reconcile to themselves hoM' we 
should have such treasure in earthen vessels, how this power 
should be intrusted to those who might not use it aright, or 
might make it but an occasion of sin. 

But is it then a new thing for God to " perfect praise 
through babes," or overcome wisdom by folly, or make weak- 
ness His strength ? " O wretched unbelief," says a Father, 
" who deniest to God His own proper qualities, simplicity 
and power ! " Is it not, on that very account, more according 
to all the analogy of God's dealings since the foundation of the 
world ? Hath not He Who himg the earth upon nothing, 
and has made sand the bound of the proud waves of the sea, 
and man, of all the weakest, the Lord of this earthly creation, 
when He had breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and 
cast around him the robe of original innocency, hath not He 
ever shown His Almightiness in seeming weakness, that it 


might be seen that the excellency was of Him ? When has he 
not used means, inadequate, in order to bring about His ends ? 
How is it stranger than that the Lord should hearken to the 
voice of a man, and the sun obey the voice of him who said, 
" Sun, stand thou still " ; or that, through the indwelling of 
His Spirit, the voice of the tent-maker in bonds should make 
Felix tremble, and almost persuade a king in his pomp to belong 
to the " sect every where spoken against," and subdue the 
Imperial City, and silence the wise of this world, and run through 
the world, making Jew, and Greek, and Barbarian, obedient 
to the faith ? " It is not ye that speak," saith our Lord, " but 
the spirit of your Father which speaketh in you." " That man 
from the earth," says S. Gregory the Great, " might have so 
great power, the Creator of heaven and earth came to earth 
from heaven ; and, that the flesh might judge spirits, the Lord, 
made Flesh for man, vouchsafed to bestow this upon him, 
because thereby did human weakness rise beyond itself, that 
Divine Might was made weak below Itself." It may be one 
of the fruits of the Incarnation, and a part of the dignity 
thereby conferred upon our nature, that God would rather 
work His miracles of grace through man than immediately 
by Himself. It may be part of the Mystery of the Passion, 
that God would rather bestow Its fruits through those who 
can suffer with us, through toil and suffering, than without 
them. It may be part of the purpose of His Love, that love 
should increase while one member suffers with another, and 
reheves another. 

God, indeed, when He intrusteth man with His Divine 
Authority, doth not part with it so as to confirm that which 
through the sin, either of him who useth it, or him for whom 
it is used, is done contrary to His Will. " Pardon," says S. 
Pacian, " is in such wise not refused to true penitence as that no 
one thereby prejudgeth the future Judgment of Christ." " We 
do not," says S. Cyprian, " anticipate the judgment of the 
Lord Who will come to judge, but that, if He shall find a sin- 
ner's penitence full and entire, He will then ratify what has 
been determined by us. But if any have deluded us by a 
feigned penitence, God, Who ' is not mocked,' and Who 
' looketh on the heart ' of man, wall judge of those whom 
we have not seen through, and the Lord will correct the sen- 
tence of His servants." Yet doth not God less, through His 


servants, what is done aright in His Name because others 
speak in that Name perversely. He spake through His true 
prophets, although others, whom He sent not, in His Name 
" prophesied deceits " ; He said to His Priests, " Ye are gods," 
giving sentence through the name of God ; although to such 
as judged unjustly He said, " Ye shall die like men." Bap- 
tism is not less " the laver of regeneration " because it benefits 
not those who receive it feignedly ; nor is the Holy Eucharist 
less the Bread of Life because to those " who will presume 
to receive it im worthily " "it doth nothing else than increase 
their damnation." He doth not the less speak through those 
who preach His Gospel because others " proclaim " or preach 
" Christ out of envy and strife " ; nor doth He less by the Church 
loose true penitents because they who come feignedly to His 
Ordinance do, by this fresh sin, but rivet all their former sins 
faster upon them. 

My whole object, brethren, in all this which I would say, 
is the comfort of penitents, according to the provisions which 
our Church has made for them. Elsewhere I have sought, 
from the practice of Primitive Antiquity, to vindicate the 
practical state of our Church, in which confession is dispensed 
with as a matter of necessity, and left to the consciences of 
individuals. Yet certainly they who, leaving private confes- 
sion discretionary, put their hand to the work of restoring 
public discipline thought not that things would be amongst 
us as they now are ; for Ridley spoke of public discipline as 
" one of the marks whereby the true Church is known in this 
dark world," and Latimer (with others) saith, " To speak of 
right and true Confession, I would to God it were kept in Eng- 
land ; for it is a good thing." Yet God, Who in His Wisdom 
suffered their designs to come to nought, has thereby the more 
cast the Church upon herself, and, we may trust, would make 
her discipline the purer, in that He has deprived her of all 
outward aid in restoring it. And we may even be thankful 
that the rules which remain, requiring all her members to 
partake of her ordinances, have passed into disuse. For this 
is most certain, that to encourage indiscriminately the approach 
to the Holy Communion, without a corresponding inward 
system whereby they, who are entitled so to do, should know 
intimately the hearts of those whom they so encourage, has 
brought with it an amount of carelessness and profanation 


which, if known, would make many a heart of those who have 
so done sink and quake. 

It is, then, we may trust, of God's manifold mercy to this 
portion of His Church, that He has, at the same time, by His 
Providence allowed almost all remains of that outward com- 
pulsory system to be broken down, and by His Spirit within 
has aroused, and is arousing, people's consciences more and 
more to desire the full provisions which He has laid up in her 
for wounded souls. For so shall the whole be the more seen 
to be His work, and discipline be not the constraint of the 
disobedient, but, as oftentimes in the oldest times, the longed- 
for refuge of earnest minds, the binding-up of the broken- 
hearted, the austere yet loved chastisement of the flesh, " that 
the soul may be saved in the day of the Lord." We can bear 
no sudden restoration. But in this and all things we need 
but patiently to await for His Hand, Who is so graciously 
and wonderfully restoring us. That type of fatherly rule 
must be the characteristic of our Church — " volentes per 
populos dat jura." " The people shall be willing in the day 
of Thy power." 

We must patiently await until God gives to parents more 
anxious care for their children, or more confidence in her 
ministers, or to us more skill in guarding the souls of youth. 
All will be well with our Church, if man outruns not by his 
impatience the deep, orderly movements of the Spirit of God. 
Yet since on this very subject, unhappily, a vague suspicion 
in general prevails among us, and this is fostered now by the 
work of an infidel of impure mind in another land, we need the 
more the common warning, which has been raised again and 
again during the three last centuries, that amid any corrupt 
abuses, through man's wickedness, of the individual applica- 
tion of the power of the Keys, we ourselves lose not its healthful 
use. According to the state of the Church, the influence of 
the clergy must raise or depress the people committed to their 
charge ; they will, by God's appointment and gracious help, 
aid to lift them up towards Heaven, or with them they will 
sink deeper into HeU. And the more sacred and nearer the 
intercourse, the more blessed must it be, or the more deadly. 
But whatsoever may be conceived of evil, in any state of the 
Church, from men of corrupt minds, ravening wolves in sheep's 
clothing, there is the less fear, when God is restoring her. 


Whatever danger there may be, in any case, lest an unskilful 
Priest should convey knowledge of evil to the soul, instead of 
guarding it (and too scrupulous tender care of this there cannot 
be, aided by constant prayer to God,) our peril lies not here. 
We are not in peril when we fear, but when we fear not. Our 
peril is from that which Satan through these fears would the 
more hide from us, the unhindered tide of corruption, which 
sweeps away its tens of thousands, when the heart, unopened 
to parent or priest, does he open to Satan's snares. Meantime, 
there is the more exceeding reason for more earnest prayer to 
God, to break this power and malice of Satan, and strengthen 
His own kingdom in the hearts of men. 

But, meantime, neither this nor aught besides for which 
our good Bishop Andre wes prayed, as things yet " lacking to 
us," should have any weight in diminishing the comfort of any 
in this our portion of the Church, in which God has bestowed 
upon us so many blessings from our childhood until now. 
It has been well said, " Pray to God for a guide, and He will 
give thee a guide, or Himself will guide thee." He, Who is 
stirring people's souls to long to disburthen themselves will 
not fail, among us, the hearts which He hath stirred. He vnU 
not, through our unskilfulness, be wanting to His own Ordin- 
ance. Meantime, it is certain, by the consent of the Universal 
Church, that who so is truly contrite of any the most deadly 
sin — all which the Ancient Church subjected to years of 
penitence, and then by imposition of hands formally restored — 
yea, if he had on him the sins of the whole world, and longeth 
for Absolution, is absolved. And if the comfort is for a time 
withheld, while as yet he knows not to whom to turn, who 
knows what deeper penitence God may not amid this suspense 
be working in his soul ? God's delays are man's benefits. 
" Ask, and ye shall receive." 

Then, too, as penitence deepens, the daily and Eucharistic 
absolutions will come with greater power to the soul. If now 
to many they seem to avail but little, it is not that the Absolu- 
tion is powerless, but that repentance, upon which alone it is 
bestowed, is cold. If, indeed, " with hearty repentance and 
true faith we turn unto Him," if " the remembrance of our 
sin is indeed grievous unto us, and the burden of them intoler- 
able," His mercy wiU not be wanting to us. His absoh-ing 
sentence belongs directly to us. " When," in the words of 


Hooker, " in the confession, every man, prostrate, as it were, 
before His glorious Majesty, crieth ' guilty ' against himself, 
and the minister with one sentence pronounceth universally 
all clear whose acknowledgment so made hath proceeded 
from a true penitent mind, what reason is there every man 
should not, under the general terms of confession, represent 
to himself his own particulars whatsoever, and, adjoining 
thereunto that affection which a contrite spirit worketh, 
embrace to as full effect the words of Divine Grace as if the 
same were severally and particularly uttered with addition 
of prayers, imposition of hands, or aU the ceremonies and 
solemnities that might be used for the strengthening of men's 
affiance in God's peculiar mercy towards them ? " 

Yet this very restoration brings new and difficult duties 
upon us to whom God has entrusted that most solemn and 
Divine office. There is no choice. Consciences are daily 
awakened by God's Spirit, some to the knowledge of a frightful 
past, others, it may be, are unduly burthened. Satan, in the 
absence of skilful advisers who might guard the soul against 
evil, at first subtle, but very desolating, has spread his snares 
with a dreadful wisdom. Luxury, and the sins of a self- 
indulgent people, the corruption transmitted from one brief 
generation of youth to another, or self-originated through the 
early deceits of Satan, have spread among us a widely-wasting 
mass of evil, unknown mostly, unwarned against, and therefore 
the more destructive. Too many know how sin, commenced 
with scarce the knowledge that it was sin, has, for years of 
life, cankered every purpose of good ; perhaps prepared for 
deeper, more overt, deadly sin ! 

Yet, whether of such or of any other sins, the more God 
brings before the souls of men the awful reality of our existence, 
and the endless bliss or woe which hangs upon this hfe's 
breath, the deeper and more frequent must be the longing of 
men to disburthen their souls. With deeper sense of the 
sinfulness of sin, needs, new to us, but for which our Church 
provides, have sprung up. And we, in our several calhngs, 
must not (if we would have the blessing of God) be wanting 
either to the Church or to " the sheep of Christ whom He 
bought with His Death, and for whom He shed His Blood." 
Yet, blessed as the office is, and like our Blessed Lord's own, 
to relieve the burthen of the clogged and choked heart by 

I8— (J433) 


receiving it, still, from the experience of those who have 
exercised that holy ministry, it must be said that there is none 
so fuU of peril to those who have not, by penitence and mortifi- 
cation, or the continual sanctifying grace of God, or some sharp, 
penetrating, severing stroke, been deadened to the things of 
time, and, in the fuU aim and desire of their heart, are seeking 
to live to God. Sin is an awful thing to handle. To hear of 
it continually, and not to be defiled with it nor dulled to it ; 
to compassionate a fellow-sinner, and be austere with self ; 
to hear of the defilement of every sense, and keep watch over 
his own ; comes not from man himself, but from the continued, 
preserving, guarding, refreshing grace of God, which keeps the 
whole man stayed upon, looking to, sealed by. Him. It is, 
then, a call the more to us so to cleave fast to God that those 
committed to our charge may rightly place trust in us, to be 
jealously watchful over ourselves, guard speech habitually, 
if we are to receive the solemn secrets of men's inmost souls ; 
train ourselves in holy discipline, that we may be fitted to 
train others, not be bhnd leaders of the blind ; strict with 
ourselves, that we may know how to be tenderly careful of 
others ; hate aU the motions of sin in ourselves, that we may 
teach others to hate it with a holy shrinking ; be fervent 
ourselves, that we may inspire others with a holy fervour ; 
love Him much. Who, we trust, hath forgiven us, that we may 
teach others, being much forgiven, much to love ; and study 
deep humihty and fervent prayer, lest we fall into any snare of 
the Devil. For, as the reward is great, so is the peril. And it 
may often be desirable that before any exercise the Physician's 
office (although none from the sense of their own unworthiness 
should refuse it in case of need) he should himself lay open some 
festering oppressive sin of his own bosom. 

Nor is the increase of the individual application of the 
" power of the Keys " among us any (so to speak) new and 
untried use of what lies in the letter of our hturgy. It was used 
in times past, nor ever wholly disused, however overlaid in 
the lukewarmness of the last century, or overlooked in the 
revival of piety, when, at first, it took a direction too little 
influenced by the provisions of our Church. And now, again, 
its increased use has not been the result of any theory, or of 
any wish on the part of any of the priesthood to restore what 
they thought to be for the benefit of the Church. It originated. 


not in the agency of man, but in the Grace and Providence of 
Almighty God, shaking the inmost souls of penitents, and giving 
them the longing for that relief which He has appointed. 

And as this, amid the manifold distresses of this time, is a 
great encouragement and hope for the future (for what is from 
Him must prosper), so too are the blessed fruits which all 
have seen who in these latter days have been called upon to 
exercise this sacred ministry. For gifts of grace are not of man, 
but the operation of our Blessed Lord, through the Holy 
Spirit, sanctioning among us the commission which He gave. 

And if any here feel the burthen of past sin, some single, 
heavier sin, as a load upon his conscience, or some enduring 
evil habit, or a subtle ensnaring offence, again and again 
rising up against him, or some hateful speU of past evil doing, 
which seems to leave his soul in darkness, and paralyse him 
as to all more holy, devoted purposes : it may be a blessed 
knowledge that others, like him, were once burthened, and now 
their lightened hearts mount up in love and thankfulness. 
They who were once slaves of sin now are the freedmen of God. 
They once strove ineffectually, struggling for a while, yet ever 
in the end dragged captive ; now they strive victoriously in 
the Peace and Light and Love of God. 

It is one of the especial blessings of this place that each is 
assigned to the care of one who, by his sacred office, is bound 
to care for his soul. Blessed as that relation has been to many 
of us, more blessed far might it be to the young, would they 
recollect that they, with whom they are brought into this 
relation, are not mere guardians of discipline, but Ministers 
of God. And if the soul of any be burthened, they are, by the 
very name of their office, ^ protectors, guardians, and in the 
place of parents. We need no new relations, but to bring into 
fuller life what God has given us. 

Great is the grace which God oftentimes bestows, through 
the power of the Keys, upon true penitence, which loveth or 
but longeth to love. He Who giveth to everyone severally 
as He willeth, dealeth with each as He, in His Infinite Mercy 
and Wisdom, sees best for the needs of each, or as each is 
at the time fitted to receive of His Goodness. Nor must any 
be disappointed if, for the time, he be even rather bewildered 
with the memory and multitude of his sins, or with the shame 

^ Tutores. 


of their confession, than perceive any instant rehef. Yet 
none in earnestness ever " asked bread " of our " Heavenly 
Father," and " He gave them a stone " ; none ever with 
penitent heart approached His Ordinances in His Church, 
and was " sent empty away." He giveth according to our 
longing. He Himself hath said, " Open thy mouth wide, 
and I will fill it " : the greater our longing for His grace, the 
larger His grace. His Infinite Love has no bounds but the 
narrowness of our souls, which, if we crave it. He will enlarge. 
To some He sheddeth rays of light on their darkness ; to others 
He giveth large, sensible influxes of grace, so that they seem 
borne along it as upon a tide ; to others He poureth in the 
gift of love ; to some He giveth another heart and maketh them 
other men, so that former sins, former besetting temptations, 
are, as it were, passed away ; to others He giveth the grace of 
strength ; to others a loving penitence ; to others deep humility 
and loathing of sin ; to others the brightness of His Presence, 
and the soul as of a little child. Yet all such gifts are of God's 
overflowing mercy ; one only gift doth the penitent seek after, 
the Face of God ; that He Who turned away His Face amid 
his sins will " show the Light of His Countenance upon him, 
that he may be whole." 

The restoration, on the part of God, if we be sincere, is 
complete. " I set before you," says S. Chrysostom, " not one, 
two, three, but many thousands, ulcered, wounded, laden 
with countless sins, which can be so made whole through 
penitence as not to have trace or scar of their former wounds," 
" Scars remain in the body ; God, when He effaces sin, allows 
neither scar nor trace to remain, but with health gives fresh- 
ness of beauty too ; with freedom from punishment, righte- 
ousness also ; and makes the sinner equal to those who had 
not sinned." Nay, not " equal " may he be, but, says S. 
Gregory, " a life on fire with love after sin becometh more 
pleasing to God than innocence which through security is 
listless." Only be it an ardent, kindled, fiery hfe, which 
willeth not that any of its dross, any thing dead, remain 

What the Church offers is not to replace penitence (as 
many modern systems do), but to secure its fruits ; not to 
diminish sorrow for past sin, but to make it joyous ; not to 
offer easy terms, but to invite to the yoke of Christ, easy, but 


as freeing thee from the yoke of sin ; easy, because He who 
placeth it upon thee shall by it uphold thee. The Church 
everywhere has in later times mitigated her strictness, and, 
because she could not bring us to the severe self-discipline of 
the Ancient Church, would invite us, as children with weak 
wills, to do what we can. 

She abridges the long-protracted period of penitential acts ; 
admits at once to, or rarely excludes from, Communion ; disuses 
almost everywhere the recommendation of the stern instru- 
ments of ancient penitence. In compassion to the weakness 
of her children, she puts them not to open shame, nor lays 
upon them the burthen of a heavy disciphne. But God changeth 
not ; His holy Word remains, which counts self-" revenge " 
among the fruits of " sorrow after a godly sort." The Church 
still rehearses to us from it the austere humiliation of Ahab 
and Nineveh ; she still teaches us to say, ■with the royal penitent, 
" Every night wash I my bed, and water my couch with my 
tears " ; " my beauty is gone for very trouble " ; "I forget 
to eat my bread " ; " for the voice of my groaning, my bones 
will scarce cleave to my flesh." She, yea, God by her, still 
calls to us through the Prophets, to " turn to the Lord with 
weeping, and with fasting, and with mourning." Not the 
nature of the Unchangeable God, nor of His and our un- 
changed Adversary, fixed in everlasting hate of both, and 
hating us the more, as bearing the image of God ; not the 
deadly nature of sin, nor the true character of healthy penitence, 
are changed ; not what would be good for us, if we could bear 
it, but what our sickly wills (and in some cases, weaker frames) 
wiU bear. Better to repent anyhow, than not to repent at all. 
Yet surely they may most hope that their penitence is sincere 
whom it costs most. " The pains of the penitent," says S. 
Augustine, " are birth-pangs of a woman with child," yielding, 
for short present pain, abiding joy. They surely who mourn 
most deeply shall be most deeply comforted ; " they who 
sow in tears shall reap in joy " ; they who, " weeping, bear 
forth good seed, shaU come again " to their Father's everlasting 
home " with joy," and shall find their sheaves laid up in His 
garner. They who have deeply fallen, or have turned aside, 
must gird themselves the more resolutely, and strip them- 
selves of every weight, and press the more earnestly in His 
Blessed Steps Who hath anew called them, would they gain 


the Prize they once forfeited, the full Brightness of His Pre- 
sence in bliss, and recover the jewels of that crown which they 
once tarnished or " cast on the ground, profaning it down to 
the dust," and the mire of concupiscence ! 

God is anew calling aloud to penitence. Evil days, perhaps 
the last strife before His coming, are gathering thick upon us. 
He, by the manifold evils around us, is telling us where any 
who, when called by Him to work, once said, " I will not," 
and have " not kept their own vineyard," may now, if they 
repent, go and work in the vineyard of the Lord. Every- 
where around, our crowded cities, our mines, our ports, our 
manufactories, are one wide desolation, often, except in the 
suspension of punishment, the types of Hell, for lack of devoted, 
self-denying service. Let those follow easy paths who have 
ever tried the paths of God ! Let those who have ever led 
blameless lives, and have little stained their Baptismal robes, 
if God calls them not, possess in thankfulness life's pure, peaceful 
joys ! But if thou trustest that God hath forgiven thee, or 
will forgive thee, much, then seek how thou mayest show forth 
to Him much contrition and much love ; if thou trustest that 
thou art "a brand plucked out of the fire," then see how, by 
what self-denial, parting Avith this world's goods or comforts, 
thou mayest, under God, aid to pluck others out of that fire 
which thou feelest that thou didst deserve ; if thou hope 
that, when thou hast made thyself " a vessel of wrath fitted 
for destruction," " dishonouring thine own self," " Jesus 
Christ," willing to " show forth in " thee " all long-suffering," 
would make of thee " a vessel prepared unto glory," " sanc- 
tified and meet for the Master's use," then, like him, the chief 
of penitents, the " chosen vessel to bear " his Redeemer's 
" Name before the Gentiles," be thou ready to " suffer for " 
His " Name's sake." Be thou " in labours more abundant ; 
in weariness and painfulness ; in watching often ; in hunger 
and thirst ; in fastings often ; in cold and nakedness " ; yea, 
blessed shalt thou be if, with him, thou be "in deaths oft " ; 
that so in that body, which thou once didst " yield as the 
instrument of unrighteousness unto sin," and through "sin, 
unto death," thou mayest now " bear about the dying of the 
Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus may be made manifest 
in the body," and, while " death worketh in" thee, " hfe may 
work " in them who through thee shall know Him. Turn 


thy self-affliction to the good of thy brethren ; show unto 
Christ, in His and thy brethren, the love wherewith thou 
hopest He hath loved thee ; and thy displeasure at thy sins 
shall be the good pleasure of thy God ; thy labour to efface 
thy past foulness, shall, through the Blood of Christ, win for 
thee everlasting beauty and glory. He Whose strength is 
made perfect in weakness shall make thy past weakness the 
means of thy future strength ; the memory of past sin, when 
thou art loosed from it, shall be, not a clog to hold thee back, 
but a spur to goad thee. He who now saith, " When thou art 
converted, strengthen thy brethren," shall own the good deeds 
which he gave thee strength to do. He who shaU now say to 
thee by His Minister, " Son, be of good cheer, thy sins are 
forgiven thee," shall, in the awful Day, when He shall be 
revealed in flaming fire, to take vengeance on those who obey 
not His Gospel, but to be glorified in His Saints, He shall 
by Himself say unto thee," Well done, thou good and faithful 
servant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord." 

Unto which He, of His infinite Mercy, bring us sinners, to 
Whom with the Father, etc. 


In Advent, 1854, while the Crimean War was at its crisis, 
Bishop Selwyn preached a course of four sermons before the 
University of Cambridge, in which he used these words : — 
" Offer yourselves to the Archbishop of Canterbury as twelve 
hundred young men have recently offered themselves to the 
Commander-in-Chief." They should be ready to go anywhere 
and do anything. He had uttered the same appeal in the 
chapel of Eton College — " a school of buoyant freedom and 
energetic idleness." One result of the Advent sermons was 
an " indelible impression " made on the heart of Frederick 
Mackenzie, afterwards Bishop of the Zambesi ; another the 
offer by a listener to place his entire fortune at the Bishop's 
disposal. In August of that year a newly-ordained priest, 
John Coleridge Patteson, aged twenty-seven, had dedicated 
his life to the work of Christ in the mission field. His desire 
had been for years to follow Selwyn. The Church revival was 
bearing one of its natural and essential fruits in zeal for the 
Catholic extension of the Redeemer's fold. 

Rather more than six years later, on St. Matthias' Day, 
1861, Patteson himself was consecrated as first Bishop of 
Melanesia in St. Paul's Church, Auckland, by Bishop Selwyn 
and the Bishops of Welhngton and Nelson (Abraham and 
Hobhouse). All four were Etonians. Bishop Selwyn's sermon, 
which is given below, is described by Prebendary Tucker, who 
prints it in full, as " one of the most striking sermons ever 
preached by him." ^ There is an affecting account of this 
consecration, from Bishop Patteson's own pen, in Miss Charlotte 
Yonge's Life of the martyr-prelate. ^ We are told also that 
one bystander, who had never seen cassock and rochet before, 

^ Life and Episcopate of Bishop Selwyn. By Preb. H. W. Tucker, 1879. 
2 Vol. i, pp. 487-492. 



was reminded of some young knight watching his armour — 
a face steadfast, meek, holy and calm, as though all conflict 
was over, and he was resting, resting in the Divine strength. 
Tagalana, the island boy, held the Book, and " it was alto- 
gether a wonderful scene." Patteson was overcome for a 
moment by the reference in the sermon to his father. The 
closing words seemed afterwards prophetic : — " May you 
sorrow with Christ in His agony and be crucified with Him in 
His death." He was clubbed to death while sleeping in his 
tent on the shore of Neukapu ten years afterwards, on St. 
Matthew's Eve, 1871. The suppression of the South Sea 
slave-trade resulted from this martyrdom. 

A Consecration Sermon 

And they prayed and said : Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, 
show whether of these two Thou ha<;t chosen. — Acts i, 24. 

If a reason be asked for the particular character of this congre- 
gation, it is given in the first words of the text — They prayed. 
On other occasions the House of God is as free as the air of 
Heaven. The sojourner, the wayfaring man, the friendless, 
the rich, the poor, the old, the young, the full communicant 
and the proselyte of the gate, all may enter freely through its 
open doors, for the Church is the House of Prayer for all 
people, where everyone may come to pour out his soul before 
the Lord. 

But this is a season of special prayer, and of that most 
solemn act of prayer which is offered up in the Holy Communion. 
And therefore the invitation has gone forth far and wide to aU 
who have partaken of the Blessed Sacrament of the Body and 
Blood of Christ, to meet the Bishops and Pastors of our Church 
at the Lord's Table, and to pray with us and for us. 

We ask for these special prayers in a time of special need, 
for the solemnity in which we are engaged is one of fearful 
responsibility. We have not come here in a spirit of boasting, 
but of fear and trembling. We have not come here to exalt 
ourselves above our brethren in Christ, because we are Bishops 
or Presbyters or Communicants of the Church : for the day 
reminds all Pastors of the Church of him whom Christ said : 
" Have I not chosen you twelve, and one of you is a devil ? " 


and the place reminds us, that it was from that Holy Table 
that the first Communicants rose up, one to betray his Lord, 
one to deny Him, all to forsake Him. 

Was not that a season of fear and trembling, when the eleven 
Apostles met in that upper room in which they all abode 
after the Ascension, and continued with one accord in prayer 
and supplication ? Prayer was their comfort even then, 
though the Holy Ghost was not yet given. We can well 
understand why they prayed. The Bridegroom had departed 
from them. They were a band of mourners. There was Mary 
the Mother of Jesus weeping for her Son. And there was 
Mary Magdalene weeping for her Saviour ; and Peter 
mourning for his denial of his Lord ; and Thomas mourning 
for his faithlessness ; all mourning for the brother who had 
fallen from his bishoprick and gone to his own place. 

A book was unrolled before them, in which were written 
lamentations and mourning and woe. The dark word of pro- 
phecy had been then fulfilled. The Shepherd had been 
smitten, and the sheep of the flock had been scattered abroad. 
One habitation was desolate, and no man to dwell therein. 
Each in his own degree had been offended because of Christ ; 
even that Apostle who said, " Though all men shall be offended 
because of Thee, yet will I never be offended." Judas, Peter, 
all the Apostles, had stumbled at that stumbhng stone : and 
all this had been foretold by prophecy as foreordained by God : 
and yet they could not excuse themselves by alleging God's 
foreknowledge. Their Lord had said, " It must needs be that 
offences come, but woe be to that man by whom the offence 

And now to this sorrow for the past was to be added fear 
for the future : for this word also of prophecy was to be ful- 
filled : " His bishoprick let another take." Another soldier 
of the Cross was to step at once into the place in which he had 
seen his comrade fall. There was no special guidance of the 
Holy Ghost, as when Paul and Barnabas were separated for 
the work whereunto God had called them. All the past was 
full of bitter proofs of their own unfitness for their Master's 
service. They had not known their own hearts. They had 
fancied themselves ready to go up to Jerusalem, to die with 
Him ; they promised to go with Him to prison and to death ; 
yet they had denied and forsaken Him. They had not known 


their own deceitful hearts : how should they know the hearts 
of other men ? One source of comfort and light had been 
opened to them by their Divine Master, and to that they 
resorted. They prayed and said : — 

" Thou, Lord, which knowest the hearts of all men, show 
whether of these two Thou has chosen." 

They did not pray alone. The same Blessed Saviour who 
had borne their griefs and carried their sorrows, who had 
prayed for them in His agony, while they were sleeping, would 
not forsake them in their act of prayer. He knew that Satan 
had desired to have them, that he might sift them as wheat, 
and He prayed for them, that their strength might not fail. 

In the power of that intercession, Peter stood up in the 
midst of the disciples ; Peter foremost in the blessing, " Blessed 
art thou Simon Barjona," and foremost also in the offence, 
" Get thee behind me, Satan, thou art an offence unto me." 
Had he forgotten his own bitter tears for his threefold denial, 
or his grief at his Lord's threefold exhortation to him to feed 
His Sheep ? Was his bearing that of the Primate of the Apos- 
tolic brotherhood, proud of his own office, and confident in 
his own strength ? If he had been righteous in his own eyes, 
he would have brought a railing accusation against his brother. 
But his words are not of condemnation, but of sorrow. He 
speaks of Judas not as a traitor, but as the guide of them that 
took Jesus. He does not deny that Judas was an Apostle, 
but puts it forward as a sorrowful fact, that he was numbered 
with them, and had obtained part of their ministry. In fear 
and sorrow he recognized the fulfilment of prophecy in his 
brother's fall ; in fear and hope he called upon his brethren 
to fulfil the same Word of God by appointing another to take 
part of that ministry and Apostleship from which Judas by 
transgression fell. 

I have endeavoured to explain the feelings with which the 
Apostles must have offered up those fervent prayers at the 
election of Matthias, as some guide to our own thoughts and 
feelings on the present occasion. 

We, too, must come to this work in a spirit of prayer, because 
it is to us a work even of greater fear. 

I speak of the Consecrating Bishops. 

We are called upon to execute this office of the Apostles, 
in an age when the Bridegroom has been taken away, and 


when all outward gifts and guidances of the Spirit of God have 
been withdrawn. We are not like those holy men, who were 
with the Lord Jesus " all the time that He went in and out 
among them, beginning from the baptism of John, unto the 
same day that He was taken up. We cannot choose from men 
who have enjoyed the hke privileges as eye-witnesses and 
ministers of the Word. We are inferior to them both in respect 
of the power to choose, and of the field of choice. Compared 
with them, we are but " blind leaders of the bUnd." 

And yet the office of the Apostles is laid upon us. They have 
long gone to their rest : but the commandment still remains 
in force, "Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to 
every creature." God neither gave immortality to the Apos- 
tles nor a sudden spirit of conversion to the world. It is seen, 
then, to be the will of God, that the fulfilment of prophecy, 
and of our Blessed Lord's commandment, should be a gradual 
work, to be carried on by successive generations of the Christian 

Through a hundred steps of spiritual lineage that Apostolic 
ministry has been brought down to us. At this distance from 
the source of blessing, we fear lest we be found wanting. We 
are called upon to exercise the office of Apostles, but without the 
special gifts and graces of the Apostolic age. What are we 
that we should have power to carry on the Lord's Work in 
obedience to His commandment ? 

When we look to the side of prophecy, the thought is no less 
fearful. The whole volume of Holy Scripture seems to be 
unroUed before us with its warning of woe. " Woe be to me, 
if I preach not the Gospel." Is the promise yet fulfilled, that 
in Abraham and his seed shaU aU the nations of the earth be 
blessed ? Has Christ already received all the heathen for His 
inheritance and all the uttermost parts of the earth for His 
possession ? Is there no wilderness which has still to blossom 
as the rose ? No islands that still wait for the Lord ? No 
kingdoms that must become His ? Are all idols utterly 
abohshed ? Are there no Gentiles yet to come to His light ; 
no doves to come back to the windows of His ark ; no sons to 
come from afar ; no daughters to be brought to be nursed at 
His side ? Has His Church been established in the top of the 
mountains as a city set upon a hill ? 

The vastness of the scope of the prophetic visions at once 


humbles and enlarges the mind. " Thy heart shall fear and 
be enlarged " is God's promise through Isaiah. However little 
our work may be, it is part of that purpose of God which can 
never fail. We pray for our Uttle one in fear and humility, 
and while we pray it becomes a thousand. It is but a drop 
in the ocean, but that ocean is the fullness of God. 

But when we thus recognize the work as of God alone, 
ordained by His determinate counsel and foreknowledge, a 
new cause of fear arises, and brings with it a new motive to 
prayer. In this work of God, belonging to all eternity, and to 
the Holy Catholic Church, are we influenced by any private 
feelings, or any personal regard ? The charge which St. Paul 
gives to Timothy, in words of awful solemnity, " to lay hands 
suddenly on no man," may well cause much searching of heart. 
" I charge thee before God, and the Lord Jesus Christ, and the 
elect angels, that thou observe these things, without preferring 
one before another, doing nothing by partiality." Does our 
own partial love deceive us in this choice ? We were all trained 
in the same place of education ; united in the same circle of 
friends ; in boyhood, in youth, in manhood, we have shared 
the same sorrows and joys and hopes and fears. I received 
this my son in the Ministry of Christ Jesus from the hands of 
a father of whose old age he was the comfort : he sent him 
forth without a murmur, nay, rather with joy and thankfulness, 
to these distant parts of the earth. He never asked even to 
see him again ; but gave him up without reserve to the Lord's 
work. Pray, dear brethren, for your Bishops, that our partial 
love may not deceive us in this choice, for we cannot so strive 
against natural affection as to be quite impartial. 

And yet, as standing in " the presence of God, and of the 
Lord Jesus Christ, and of the elect angels," we solemnly declare 
that we are not laying hands suddenly on this dear friend and 
brother. So far as we can search our own hearts, and judge 
of our own motives, we are doing nothing by partiality. In 
frequent conference, and in solemn communion, we have spread 
the matter before the Lord ; and we have received at least this 
satisfaction, that no single whisper of the voice of conscience 
within has warned us to forbear. We have risen from our 
prayers more and more resolved to go forward in the name of 
God, and in the full belief that this is indeed His work, and that 
this is His chosen servant. 


Here again was the need of prayer, that we were left to our 
own unassisted judgment. It is true that I had received the 
commission, now nearly twenty years ago, from the Primate 
of the Enghsh Church, to regard New Zealand as a fountain 
to diffuse the streams of salvation over the coasts and islands 
of the Pacific Ocean, and that supplies have been furnished 
by the Church at home with no sparing hand to enable me to 
begin the work. But, in this special act of the consecration of a 
Missionary Bishop, the authorities in Church and State at home 
have advisedly left us to exercise our own inherent powers ; 
with the kindest expression of sympathy with our undertaking, 
but with no division of responsibihty. And yet we do not stand 
alone in the work, for at this very time the sister Church in the 
Cape Colony, with the active support of a former Governor of 
New Zealand, is sending out a Missionary Bishop to Central 
Africa. We too have received the same encouragement from 
the officers of the Crown in New Zealand, their attestation of 
the fitness of the person whom we have chosen, their assurance 
of the lawfulness of our act. We have called upon the laity 
in all our churches to come forward, if they know any just cause 
or impediment. The general consent of Church and State, of 
the Clergy and Laity, both here and at home, seems to justify 
our act. We humbly trust that we may go on with this our 
work with a conscience void of offence toward God and toward 

Having asked your prayers for us the Consecrating Bishops, 
I now ask them for him who is to be consecrated. And these 
are the reasons : — 

Because, hke all others of his brethren, he wiU have care of 
many Churches : the stewardship of the Mysteries of Christ : 
the guardianship of the purity of His Word : the administra- 
tion of godly discipline : the oversight of the flock, which the 
Son of God has purchased with His own blood. 

But, especially, because he will go forth to sow beside many 
waters, to cultivate an unknown field, to range from island to 
island, himself unknown, and coming in the name of an unknown 
God. He will have to land alone and unarmed among heathen 
tribes, where every man's hand is against his neighbour, and 
bid them lay down their spears and arrows, and meet him as 
the messenger of peace. He will have to persuade them by 
the language of signs to give up their children to his care ; 


and, while he teaches them the simplest elements which are 
taught in our infant schools, to learn from them a new language 
for every island. Surely then, dear brethren, we must pray 
earnestly that this our brother may have large measure of 
the Apostolic gifts ; a power to acquire divers languages ; 
and also boldness with fervent zeal constantly to preach the 
Gospel to all the nations now to be committed to his charge. 
Already sixty islands will come under his care, and at least 
one hundred others, stretching westward as far as New Guinea, 
are among the number of the islands which are waiting for the 
Lord. I can but indicate the outlines of this great work ; 
your own minds fill up the details, by that lively faith which 
springs from a hearty acceptance of all the prophecies and of all 
the promises of the Bible. It may be that your prayers will 
be more earnest for objects which you see as through a glass 
darkly ; like those solemn prayers which faithful men offer 
up in the darkness of the night to the God who seeth in secret. 

One duty yet remains : to commend our dear brother to 
the work to which we believe God has called him. 

It was the privilege of the Apostles to elect Matthias out of 
the number of those " who had companied with them aU the 
time that the Lord Jesus went in and out among them, begin- 
ning from the baptism of John unto the same day that He was 
taken up." Our privilege, though different in degree, may 
be the same in kind ; for faith supplies what is denied to sight. 

So may every step of thy life, dear brother, be in company 
with the Lord Jesus. 

May the baptism of John be in thee, to fiU thee with that 
godly sorrow which evoketh repentance not to be repented of : 
a foretaste of that comfort which wiU be given to them that 
mourn, by the baptism of the Holy Ghost and of fire. 

May Christ be with thee, as a light to lighten the Gentiles ; 
may He work out in thee His spiritual miracles ; may He 
through thee give sight to the blind, to see the glories of the 
God invisible ; and open the ears of the deaf to hear and 
receive the preaching of His word ; and loose the tongues of 
the dumb, to sing His praise ; and raise to new life the dead 
in trespasses and sins. 

May Christ be with you when you go forth in His Name and 
for His sake, " to these poor and needy people ; to those 
strangers destitute of help " ; to those mingled races who 


still show forth the curse of Babel, and wait for the coming of 
another Pentecost — poor alike in all worldly and spiritual 
goods, naked to be clothed, prisoners to be loosed, lepers to be 
cleansed. To you is committed Christ's own ministry, to seek 
for His sheep that are dispersed abroad ; to hold up the weak, 
to heal the sick, to bind up the broken, to bring again the out- 
casts, to seek the lost. Your office is, in the widest sense, 
to preach the Gospel to the poor. 

May Christ be ever with you ; may you feel His presence 
in the lonely wilderness, on the mountain top, on the troubled 
sea. May He go before you, with His fan in His hand to 
purge His floor. He will not stay His hand, till the idols are 
utterly abolished. 

May Christ be ever with thee, to give thee utterance to open 
thy mouth boldly to make known the mystery of the Gospel, 
Dwelling in the midst of a people of unclean lips, thou wilt feel 
Him present with thee to touch thy lips with a live coal from 
His own altar, that many strangers of every race may hear in 
their own tongues the wonderful works of God. 

May Christ be ever with you. May you sorrow with Him 
in His agony and be crucified with Him in His death, be 
buried ^^dth Him in His grave, rise with Him to newness of 
life, and ascend with him in heart to the same place whither 
He has gone before, and feel that He ever hveth to make 
intercession for thee, " that thy strength fail not." Amen. 


In the Development of Christian Doctrine Newman speaks of the 
paradox of the sanctification of war by Christianity. " Our 
Lord Himself is represented in the Prophets as a combatant 
inflicting wounds while He received them, as coming from 
Bozrah with dyed garments, sprinkled and red in His apparel 
with the blood of His enemies. And whereas no war is lawful 
but what is just, it surely beseems that they who are engaged 
in so dreadful a commission as that of taking away life at the 
price of their own should at last have the support of His 
Presence, and fight under the mystical influence of His 
Name." ^ 

The 37th Article of the Church of England says that it is 
lawful for Christian men, at the commandment of the Magis- 
trate, to wear weapons and serve in wars. Nevertheless the 
Council of Winchester, in 1071, while justifying war, ordered 
that a soldier who had slain a man in battle should do forty 
days' penance for every foeman struck. 

Christianity is jealous for the sacredness of God's image, 
and it obviously thinks much more seriously of the selfish 
recklessness and the evil passions which engender, or are 
engendered by, war than of the material loss or suffering 
caused by it. In other words, its view of war, as of other 
evils, is always an ethical one. It is observable that wars are 
in the present day undertaken almost always for markets^ 
and that commerce, hailed in 1851 as the white-winged har- 
binger of peace, has become the most prolific source of blood- 
shed. On the other hand, the money-market may also be 
responsible for unjust and unrighteous peace, and Lyall points 
out that in Milton's etherial council of war Mammon's speech 

ip. 431. 


19— (2433) 


is ignobly pacific. It depends on the circumstances whether 
Walpole's boast to Queen CaroUne was an admirable one — 
" Madam, fifty thousand men have been killed in Europe this 
year, and not one Englishman or Scotsman." Benjamin 
Franklin declared, " There never was a good war nor a bad 
peace," and many have been saying this among ourselves 
who are the first to cry out for armed intervention on behalf 
of oppressed or insurgent peoples. War is often, in Shake- 
speare's phrase, God's bedell and His vengeance, and, even 
when most " the son of Hell," of it " the angry Heavens 
do make their minister." The strange thing is that war, seen 
at close quarters, is " a soul-blinding, heart-blurring business," 
but seen through the tract of time it has been, as Ruskin 
declared, the parent of all arts and civilisation. From it are 
drawn the ideals of knighthood and chivalry. And the highest 
images of Holy Scripture are those of the panoply of God, of 
the fair fight of faith, of the Son of God riding forth to war, 
and of the good soldiers of Jesus Christ. 

Mozley makes good his point that war is rendered inevitable 
by the absence of any central authority over the nations 
analogous to the tribunals which preside over private litiga- 
tion. But he takes too low a view of forensic authority when 
he says that it is submitted to merely because ultimately it 
could appeal, as war actually does appeal, to force. The 
ordinary man obeys a court of justice, at least in part, for 
conscience' sake, and because the judge, albeit fallible, sits in 
the seat of Divine judicature. 

James Mozley, Regius Professor of Divinity at Oxford, was 
a brilliant exponent, yet with some considerable differences, of 
the intellectual standpoint of Tractarianism. When, under 
the shock of Newman's secession, to quote Church, " We sat 
glumly at our breakfasts every morning, and then someone 
came in with news of something disagreeable — someone gone, 
someone sure to go — and not those who went but we who 
stayed were voted impostors, the only two facts of the time 

WAR 291 

were that Pusey and Keble did not move, and that James 
Mozley showed that there was one strong mind and soul still 
left in Oxford." Gladstone considered that Mozley combined 
" the clear form of Cardinal Newman with the profundity of 
Bishop Butler." 1 His great mental power impressed such 
opponents as Mill, Tyndall and Huxley. The originality and 
suggestiveness of his thought, as well as the beauty of his style, 
place him in the front rank of essayists and preachers. The 
famous sermon on " War " was preached at the close of the 
deadly struggle between France and Germany, on March 12, 


Nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. — St. 
Matthew xxiv, 7. 

The relations of Christianity to war are certainly at first 
sight an extraordinary enigma. For what do we see ? Those 
who are spiritually one with another, and brethren in Christ, 
killing each other deliberately, on an immense scale, by weapons 
and engines which have been long and systematically improved 
with a view to the highest success in destruction ; the con- 
trivance of which indeed has strained to the very utmost the 
invention and ingenuity of Christians. Nor is this mutual 
slaughter, by the law of the Church, the slightest break in 
Christian union and fellowship ; the Communion of the 
Church absolutely unites one side spiritually with the other. 
When then, having first looked upon Christians fighting one 
another with the eye of custom, taking it as a matter of course, 
wanting no explanation, we have suddenly become alive to 
the strangeness and startlingness of the fact, we then turn 
right round and forthwith suppose that there must be some 
very extraordinary explanation. But there is no other than an 
ordinary explanation to give. 

The Christian recognition of the right of war was contained 
in Christianity's original recognition of nations, as constituting 
at the same time the division and the structure of the human 
world. Gathering up the whole world into one communion 
spiritually, the new universal society yet announced its 

1 Quoted in Rev. S. L. OUard's Oxford Movement, p. 80. 


coalescence with mankind's divisions politically ; it was one 
body of one kind, in many bodies of another kind. It did not inter- 
fere with the established fabrick of human society, its ancient 
inclosures, those formations of nature or events which collected 
mankind into separate masses, those great civil corporations 
into which mankind was distributed : in a word with nations. 
It gathered up into itself not only the unions but the chasms 
of the human race ; all that separated as well as all that united ; 
all that divided, and by dividing created variety and individ- 
uality in our human world. The nation was one of those 
wholes to which the individual man belonged, and of which he 
was a part and member ; it existed prior to Christianity, and 
was admitted into it with other natural elements in us. 
Christians were from the outset members of States ; and the 
Church could no more ignore the State than it could the family. 
And as one of those wholes to which the individual belonged, 
a sentiment and affection attached to it. Christianity admitted 
this sentiment ; it gave room for national feeling, for patriotism, 
for that common bond which a common history creates, for 
loyalty, for pride in the grandeur of the nation's traditions, 
for joy in its success. 

There is indeed a jealousy in some schools of thought of this 
national sentiment, as belonging to members of the Church 
Catholic, as if it were a sentiment of nature which grace had 
obliterated ; as if a universal spiritual society had left far 
behind such lower rudiments of humanity, and it were a mark 
of a relapse into heathenism to express any particular interest 
in your own country. The universal society claims the whole 
individual affection of the man ; the Catholic has ceased to be 
patriotic, and become a citizen of the Church only. This is 
the idea ; but, just as there are no two more different landscapes 
than the same under altered skies, no two ideas are wider 
apart than the same under different circumstances for realising 
them. In Heaven, all is one spiritual society only ; but here, 
if besides the Church there is the nation, the effacement of 
the national sentiment is an artificial and violent erasion of a 
fact of nature. We see all the difference in such a case between 
the vision of an angel and a fanatical or pedantic theory. 
It appears to belong^to such theories to impoverish the minds 
which they absorb. Nature punishes with dryness the spirits 
that reject her ; even their spiritual citizenship issues forth 

WAR 293 

stamped with utter insipidity, a piece of the most technical, 
barren and jejune mechanism. 

The question, indeed, whether Christianity admits of the 
national sentiment is part of the general question whether 
Christianity adopts nature. To one class of zealous rehgious 
minds everything connected with nature has looked suspicious ; 
poetry, art, philosophy, have not only had the taint of original 
evil which they bear, but they have only and simply appeared 
sinful. And to this view of them it has been replied that 
Christianity does not abolish, but purify and consecrate nature. 
Nature enriches, nay, makes, the material which religion is to 
penetrate. Christianity is not a flame which burns in a pure 
vacuum and a void. The soul has natural feelings and affec- 
tions for it to feed upon ; as the rich unguents of the wood 
feed the flame. So with respect to the national sentiment. 
It is part of the great inheritance of nature. The nation is 
one of those natural wholes to which man belongs, as the family 
is another. He is annexed to it ; and a sentiment arises out 
of that annexation. He belongs to it by the same great law 
of association, though in a further stage of it, upon which the 
tie of the family depends. 

It may be said that the tie of country is not inculcated in the 
New Testament, which, on the other hand, everywhere speaks 
of us as members of the Church which it contemplates extending 
over the whole world. But, if it does not expressly form an 
article of teaching in the New Testament, we stiU cannot 
argue from the omission as if it were rejection, and gather from 
the absence of direct injunction to it that it is obsolete under 
the Gospel. It must be observed that the argument of Hooker, 
by which he met the Puritan formula that in the matter 
of Church order and ceremonial whatever was not enjoined 
in Scripture was wrong, applies to the ethics of Scripture as 
well. Hooker said that Scripture, by leaving out, did not 
condemn, but only sent us back to the ground of reason and 
natural law. And to those who would argue that Scripture 
prohibited some affection, or sentiment, or bond, because it 
omitted the injunction of it, the answer is the same. The 
New Testament, e.g., says very little about duties to equals, 
and enlarges upon duties to inferiors, upon charity, condes- 
cension, and compassion to the poor, the sick, and the afflicted. 
But we may not suppose from this that duties to equals are not 


very important duties, nor even that they are not the more 
trying class of duties, and the most pregnant with disciphne, 
and that the society of equals is not a more searching ordeal 
to the character than intercourse with the poor, who do not 
try our pride or challenge our jealousy. Nor may we suppose 
that, if Scripture omits special injunctions to patriotism, it 
therefore cancels or prohibits it. 

The Christian Church then recognized and adopted nations, 
with their inherent rights ; took them into her inclosure. 
But war is one of these rights, because under the division of 
mankind into distinct nations it becomes a necessity. Each 
of these is a centre to itself, without any amenableness to a 
common centre. Questions of right and justice must arise 
between these independent centres ; these cannot be decided 
except b}' mutual agreement or force, and when one fails the 
other only remains — not that it necessarily settles questions 
rightly indeed, because it is force and not right which decides ; 
but the right side makes the trial. In the act, then, of recog- 
nizing and including within herself nations, collecting within 
one spiritual area so many different independent political 
sources, the Christian Church necessarily admitted also war 
within her pale. Together with the nations there comes also 
within the Church the process of national settlement of ques- 
tions — that which in nations corresponds to judicial proceedings 
between individuals — i.e., war. For, if Christians only use, 
in resorting to it, a natural right, the use of this right does not 
exclude them from the Church ; which is to say, that Christians 
fight each other in full spiritual communion. ^ Such an issue 
the primitive Christian perhaps hardly foresaw ; and could 
the veil of time have been lifted, and a European field of battle 
been shown him, he could hardly have believed the picture ; 
but it is still the result of a natural right which Christianity 
had begim with admitting. 

Christianity does not admit, indeed, but utterly denounces 
and condemns the motives which lead to war, — selfish ambition, 
rapacity, tyranny, and vanity ; but the condemnation of one 
side is the justification of the other ; these very motives give 
the right of resistance to one side. And, inasmuch as the 
Church has no authority to decide which is the right side — not 

^ For example, in the recent war in the Far East, some Japanese spies, being 
Christians, received the Eucharist from a Russian priest before being shot . 

WAR 295 

having boon made by her Divine Founder a " judge or a 
divider " in this sph(;re — the ("hurcli cannot, in her ignorance, 
exchide the other side either. The ("hurch therefore stands 
neutral, and takes in both sides ; that is to say, both sides 
fight within th(^ bond of Christian unity. She only contem- 
plates war fonM), as a infule of settling national questions, 
which is justified by the want of any oth(;r mod*;. 

This independence of nations is not of course the ultimate 
account of war, which is human passion and misapprehension, 
but only an account of it as diff(;ring from tli(! peaceable 
sellh^mcnt of disj)utcs between iufiividuals. 

It must be observed that ijidividuals are enal)lcd to settle 
their disputes peaceably by the fact of being under a govern- 
ment. It is not that individuals are less pugnacious than 
nations, but they arf; diffc^n-nlly circumstanced. l>('ing under 
a governmc^nt, they arc obliged, if they do not voUintarily 
come to terms, to accept the arbitration of a court. Nobody 
supposes that the suitors for justice in our courts agree with the 
judge when he decides against them. Tlu^y tliink him in error, 
but they submit i;f:caus(; they are oI)lig(;d. Jwery jndgim^nt 
of a court is backed by the whoh; force of the nation, as against 
the force of the individual who dissents. Individu.ds then are 
able to settle their disputes peaceably, because; they are 
governed by a nal if)n ; but nations themselves an; not governed 
i)y a power a.bov(; Ihem, This tiieii is the. original disa,dv:i,ntage 
under which nations are placed as regards the settlement of 
disputes, and in consequence of which force takes the place 
of justice in the settlement. We are struck at the; very first 
with the enormous, the almost inf;redible, contrast between 
the mode in which individual disputes are decided and that 
in which national disputes are ; they appear hardly to belong 
to the same age, or to the same world ; it is to appearance all 
the difference between civilisation and barbarism. And yet 
the whole difference sj)rings from one distinction in the situa- 
tion of the two, — there is a government of individuals provided 
in the world, but not a government of nations. The aim of the 
nation in going to war is exactly the same as that of the indi- 
vidual in entering a court ; it wants its rights, or what it 
alleges to be its rights ; but it is not in the situation in which 
the individual is of being compelled by force to accept the 
decision of a judge upon them. For indeed a court of justice 


possesses, only in reserve, exactly the same identical force 
as that which exerts and demonstrates itself in war. It is one 
and the same force in principle ; only in the court it is confes- 
sedly superior to all opposition, and therefore has not to make 
any demonstration of itself, i.e., it acts peaceably. In war it 
has to make a demonstration, to come out, i.e., its action is 
warlike. It acts as a contending force ; because it is only as a 
superior force that it is effective ; and its superiority can only 
be proved by contention. It exists in its compressed form in 
the court, like the genius shut up in the chest in the eastern 
legend ; in war it rises to a colossal height, like the same genius 
when let out. In civil government the force of final resort 
is a stationary force at the nation's centre ; in war it is a 
moving and nomad force, going about the world, and showing 
itself by the proof of the event in battle, in whatever place the 
occasion may arise ; but it is the same force in different 

It may be observed that such an account of war, as arising 
from the want of a government over the contending parties, 
applies in reality to civil wars as well as to national ; only in 
the former case the headship over the contending parties has 
given way for a time ; in the latter it never existed. 

So far we have been deahng with wars of self-defence ; 
but self-defence by no means exhausts the whole rationale 
of war. Self-defence stands in moral treatises as the formal 
hypothesis to which all justification of war is reduced ; but 
this is applying a considerable strain to it. When we go further 
we find that there is a spring in the very setting and framework 
of the world, whence movements are ever pushing up the 
the surface — movements for recasting more or less the national 
distribution of the world ; for estabhshing fresh centres and 
forming States into new groups and combinations. Much of 
this is doubtless owing to the mere spirit of selfish conquest ; 
for conquest as such is change and reconstruction ; but con- 
quest does not account for the whole of it. There is doubtless 
an instinctive reaching in nations and masses of people after 
alteration and readjustment, which has justice in it, and which 
rises from real needs. The arrangement does not suit as it 
stands ; there is want of adaptation ; there is confinement 
and pressure ; — people kept away from each other that are 
made to be together, and parts separated that were made to 

WAR 297 

join. Thus there is uneasiness in States, and an impulse 
rises up toward some new coahtion ; it is long an undergrowth 
of feehng, but at last it comes to the top and takes steps for 
putting itself in force. Strong States then, it is true, are 
ready enough to assume the office of reconstructors, and yet 
we must admit there is sometimes a natural justice in these 
movements, and that they are instances of a real self-correcting 
process which is part of the constitution of the world, and 
which is coeval in root with the pohtical structure which it 
remedies. They are an opening out of political nature, seeking 
relief and proper scope in new divisions ; sometimes reactions 
in favour of older union, disturbed by later artificial division. 
In either case it is the framework of society forced by an inward 
impulse upon its own improvement and rectification. But 
such just needs when they arise must produce war ; because a 
status quo is blind to new necessities, and does not think such 
an alteration to be for the better, but much for the worse. 
Then there are wars of progress ; they do not belong to the 
strict head of wars of self-defence ; but, so far as they are 
really necessary for the due advantage of mankind and growth 
of society, they have a justification in that reason. And as 
Christianity at its commencement took up the national divi- 
sions of mankind, with war as a consequence contained in them, 
so it assumes this root of change and reconstruction with the 
same consequence — this fundamental tendency to re-settlement, 
this inherent corrective process in political nature. 

It is this judicial character of war, and its lawful place in 
the world as a mode of obtaining justice, it is the sacred and 
serious object which so far attaches to war, which gives war 
its morahty, and enables it to produce its solemnising type 
of character. For we should keep clear and distinguished in 
our minds the moral effects of war, and the physical. These 
are apt to be confounded under such expressions as the horrors 
of war. But the horrors of war are partly bodily torment and 
suffering, which are dreadful indeed, but dreadful as misery, 
not as sin. War is hateful as a physical scourge, like a pesti- 
lence or a famine ; and again, it is hateful on account of the 
passions of those who originate it, and on account of the 
excesses in those who serve in it. But if we take the bad 
effects on those who serve in it by themselves, it is not impos- 
sible to exaggerate them, at least by comparison. For while war 


has its criminal side, peace is not innocent ; and who can say 
that more sin is not committed every day in every capital of 
Europe than on the largest field of battle ? We may observe 
in the New Testament an absence of all disparagement of the 
military life. It is treated as one of those callings which are 
necessary in the world, which supplies its own set of temptations 
and its own form of discipline. 

There is one side indeed of the moral character of war in 
special harmony with the Christian type — I refer to the spirit 
of sacrifice which is inherent in the very idea of the individual 
encountering death for the sake of the body to which he belongs. 
There is a mediatorial function which pervades the whole 
dispensation of God's natural providence, by which men have 
to suffer for each other, and one member of the human body 
has to bear the burden and participate in the grief of another. 
And it is this serious and sacred function which consecrates 
war. Without it, indeed, what would war be but carnage ? 
With it, war displays, in spite of its terrible features, a solemn 
morality. The devotion of the individual to the community 
stands before us in a form which, while it overwhelms and 
appals, strikes us with admiration. That the nation may rise 
the individual sinks into the abyss ; he vanishes as a drop that 
waters the earth, yet he does not murmur. It is his function, 
it is his appointment, it is an end to which he is ordained ; 
the member is bound to the body, the unit exists for the good 
of the whole. In a battle itself, a mass moves, advances, 
wins and occupies without one look to its gaps ; a remorseless 
identity carries it through it all ; the whole is the same, while 
the parts disappear at every step ; and the great imit moves 
on without a pause to its goal. So it is with the nation itself ; 
before it is the glorified whole, and behind it are the strewn 
and scattered fragments everywhere upon the ground. The 
nation pursues its road to greatness, and to the individuals 
it only belongs to say, Ave Ccesar, morituri te salutant. Thus 
is history formed, thus do great States rise, and thus is national 
sentiment cemented. The whole wins at the cost of the mem- 
bers ; and the life which is gone, and whose place knoweth it 
no more, that which is effaced and expunged from the tablet, 
the vanishing, the perishing and lost, is the solid rock on 
which a nation is founded. Certainly one asks — what and 
who is this mighty enchantress, that can so chain the spirits 

WAR 299 

of mankind, so fascinate, so transport them ; that can claim 
such service, and impose such martyrdom ? Is it anything 
tangible, visible ? Can you see the nation, can you feel it ? 
You cannot. It is all around you, but impalpable as the air ; 
you cannot take hold of it ; the individuals are there, but the 
whole eludes your grasp. The nation is nowhere — an abstrac- 
tion. It exists only in idea ; but ideas are the strongest things 
in man ; they bind him with irresistible force, and penetrate 
his affections with supreme subtlety. 

War is thus elevated by sacrifice ; by the mixed effect of 
glory and grief. There is in it that action just before death 
which so interests the human mind. All that a man does 
upon this extreme boundary of vision appeals to us ; what he 
said, or did, how he looked, his expressions and signs upon the 
verge of that moment, awaken our curiosity ; it seems as if 
he were in another world, when he was so near one. So in 
war there is just that conflux of splendid action upon the very 
edge of life which rouses curiosity and emotion ; the figures 
move upon the extreme line of a shifting horizon, in another 
instant they are below it ; yet the flame of energy mounts the 
highest upon the moment of the eclipse. There is a miraculous 
outbreak of power and will, which gathers all into a point ; 
then all is over, and the man is gone. The old Saxon poet, 
though he deals with war of the rudest kind, though it is the 
storming of a mound, or battle of boats up some creek, is 
carried beyond himself in contemplating the superhuman 
energies with which life goes out, the action in which man 
vanishes from earth ; and, unable to express his emotion in 
words, fills up his blank intervals with inarticulate sounds, 
to serve as the signs of what is unutterable. It is true there 
is inspiration in numbers, in men acting at once and together ; 
it is a marvellous prop to human nature. " The fear of death," 
says Montaigne, ' ' is got rid of by dying in company ; they are 
no longer astonished at it ; they lament no longer." There 
is a strain in solitary action when a man is thrown upon himself, 
which is too much for him, fellowship in danger relieves it. 
And there is excitement doubtless in a crowd, an indefinite 
mass of human beings ; it fills the mind ; the spectacle is 
stirring and absorbing ; and a crowd has this singular effect 
too, that, so far from lessening the individual in his own eyes, 
which one would imagine before that it must do, on the contrary 


it magnifies him ; he appends it to himself ; he does not 
belong so much to it as it to him. Still, though it is assisted 
nature which acts on these occasions, it is nature assisted by 
natural means. Thus have the scenes of war figured as a kind 
of supernatural borderland of action in human sentiment ; 
they have left an impress upon the memorials of the city and 
the field, and as associations and memories their place would be 
missed in the roll of the past ; while the self-sacrifice of war 
has also produced a class of virtues which cannot well be spared 
in the portrait of man. 

And as the individual fights for a whole, so he fights against 
a whole too : the hostile aim passes through the individual, 
as a mere necessary incident, to rest for its real object upon the 
impalpable generalisation of the nation, which disperses itself 
in the air, and defies our grasp. As respects the individuals 
it is simply a problem of force, which is working itself out, 
by means indeed of those individuals on each side as exponents, 
but wholly irrelevant of any regard to them as persons. It 
works itself out, just as an argument does, nor is there more 
hatred in force than there is in reasoning. It is a means to an 
end — that end being the establishment of a right, as the end 
of an argument is the establishment of a truth. Thus, take 
two hostile armies, and the total am.ount of anger is in almost 
spectral and unearthly contrast with the hideous mass of 
injury. It is like a tempest without a wind. The enmity 
is in the two wholes — the abstractions. The individuals are 
at peace. 

But there is a sad counterpart of the self-sacrificing encounter 
of death on the part of the individual for the body — the mere 
animal defiance of death. We know that man can, by custom 
and constant hardening, be at last rendered callous to the fear 
of death ; but the result sometimes is, so far from a good one 
in man, a terrible and wild outburst of evil nature in him. So 
long as he was under the fear of death there was something 
to restrain him ; there was something hanging over him ; 
there was something before him which he dreaded ; he was 
under a yoke and felt it ; but, when this last check is flung off, 
then he triumphs wildly in his freedom, and tramples upon law. 
This is the effect of the exultation of conquering the dread of 
death in the base and carnal heart ; it lets the whole man 
loose ; and in the rule of corruptio optimi pessima, just as the 

WAR 301 

victory over the terror of death in self-devotion produces the 
highest state of mind, so the mere animal conquest of it produces 
the lowest. 

Is war to be regarded then as an accident of society which 
may some day be got rid of, or as something rooted in it ? 
Imagination earnestly stretches forward to an epoch when 
war will cease ; and first, it has been said that the progress of 
society will put an end to war. But, in the first place, human 
nature consists of such varied contents that it is very difficult 
to say that any one principle, such as what we call progress, 
can control it. Old feeling starts up again, when it was thought 
obsolete, and there is much that is wild and irregular in man, 
however we may think we have subjugated and tamed him. 
There is an outburst when we least expect it. " Canst thou 
draw out leviathan with a hook ? will he make a covenant 
with thee ? wilt thou take him for a servant for ever ? " "I 
have never seen," says the great philosopher I have quoted, 
speaking of himself as the human creature, and with the rough- 
ness which is peculiar to him, " I have never seen," he says, 
" a more evident monster or miracle in the world than myself : 
a man grows familiar with all strange things by time and custom ; 
but, the more I visit and the better I know myself, the more 
does my deformity astonish me, and the less I understand of 
myself." Therefore the pretension of any one principle like 
that material of progress to control entirely this being, to make 
a covenant with him, and take him as a servant for ever, is 
on the very face of it an absurdity. But what are we to say 
when progress produces war, instead of stopping it ? It is 
true that progress has stopped wars arising from that petty 
class of causes — court and family intrigues. So much popular 
power has done. But, if progress stops war on one side, it 
makes it on another, and war is its instrument. Certainly it 
would be as easy to justify the crusades on the principle of 
self-defence as it would be to justify two of the three great 
European wars of the last dozen years on that principle. They 
were wars of progress ; wars of a natural reconstructing scope. 
So in the East war has been war of progress ; forcing two 
empires that have shut themselves up, and excluded themselves 
from the society of mankind, out of their artificial imprison- 
ment and insulation, and obliging them to come out into the 
world, and take at any rate some part and place in it. 


But again, and principally, the progress of society doubtless 
increases by comparison the barbarous aspect of war as an 
instrument ; but does it provide any other instrument by which 
nations can gain their rights ? Any other process of obtaining 
justice, however rough this one may be, and however chance 
its verdicts ? 

The natural remedy for war would then appear to be a 
government of nations ; but this would be nothing short of a 
universal empire, and can this be accomplished by any progress? 
It is indeed a physical improbability. The Church, indeed, 
in the Middle Ages put forth pretensions to this power ; the 
Roman Empire was in its day an approach to it ; and so are all 
large conquests in their degree, keeping the nations imder them 
distinct, but only partially self-governing, and depending on 
a centre. Nor is the dream of a universal government or 
empire confined to such shapes, or to such sources. Great 
popular causes, powerful tides of opinion, as they spread and 
advance over the world, tend to level the barriers of nations, 
to reduce patriotic sentiment, and to throw open the whole of 
human society into one vast area, in which the interests of 
collective humanity alone reign. The first French revolution 
was such a movement ; it bound together the disciples of 
revolutionary philosophy aU over the world, and tended to 
erect one immense brotherhood, whose common ground was 
stronger and more connecting than their differencing one ; 
the union of ideas more forcible than the separation of country. 
At the present time the vast common fellowship, co-extensive 
with the world, the great uniting bond of labour, man's 
universal yoke, has produced a move in a like direction ; and 
even in Spain, which so long idolised its own blood, the Inter- 
national Operative Society proclaimed, upon the late question 
of the election to the throne, a total freedom from prejudice, 
and entire indifference to the distinction of nations, and whether 
their king was to be Spanish or a foreigner. But whatever 
approach may occasionally take place toward a relaxation of 
the national tie, the alternative is still an inexorable one between 
independent nations and a universal empire ; and as a universal 
empire is impossible the division of nations only remains. The 
waves of universalism can only dash themselves in vain against 
that rock ; they cannot possibly shake the seat of distributed 
power and government ; and by a fortunate necessity nations 

WAR 303 

must ever form the barriers and breakwaters in that boundless 
ocean of humanity, which would otherwise drive with irresistible 
and wild force in the direction of particular great movements 
and ideas ; they are the groins which divide the beach, whose 
immeasurable expanse of sands would otherwise crowd up 
into overwhelming piles and masses. 

We thus fall back again upon independent States, which 
must decide their own rights, otherwise they are not full and 
integral States. They have not that authority, that freedom 
from all subordinateness to an authority above them, that 
self-sufficiency, which the peremptory logic of our well-known 
statutes claims for them in the statement that, " by divers old 
authentic histories and chronicles, it is manifestly declared and 
expressed that this kingdom of England is an empire, and so 
hath been accepted by the world, with plenary, whole and 
entire power, authority, prerogative and jurisdiction, and final 
determination in all causes." But such States meet equal 
rights in other States, for the conflict of which no solution is 
provided but war. 

The idea has risen up indeed, at various times, of a modifica- 
tion of the autonomy of States by the erection of a court of 
arbitration, which would be a universal government upon this 
particular point ; but, though no well-guided State would 
disturb the world for secondary points, or refuse a neutral's 
judgment upon them, it is difficult to see how, upon a question 
vitally touching its own basis and safety, it could go upon any 
other sense of justice than its own. Take an individual, what 
a natural keen sense he has of the justice of his own case. How 
he is penetrated through with its grounds and reasons, into the 
full acquaintance with which he has grown gradually and 
naturally, having had time to see the facts in all their relations. 
An individual then certainly does accept the judgment of a 
neutral on his cause in the person of a judge, and surrender 
his own sense of the justice of his case ; but he is compelled to 
do so. A nation is not compelled to do this ; if it doubts then 
whether an indifferent spectator who would have to apply a 
hard, forced attention to its cause would do adequate justice 
to its rights, it is asking a great deal that it should give up its 
own rights to the judgment of that other. A nation knows 
it does justice to its own case ; it cannot be sure that another 
will do so. It is not partiahty to self alone upon which the idea 


is founded that you see your own cause best. There is an 
element of reason in this idea ; your judgment even appeals 
to you, that you must grasp most completely yourself what 
is so near to you, what so intimately relates to you ; what, 
by your situation, you have had such a power of searching 
into. The case is indeed something analogous to an individual 
surrendering his own moral judgment to another. He may 
do so if he is not certain ; but if he feels certain it is almost 
a contradiction to do so. 

It may be said, why may not a nation give up its rights on 
a principle of humility and generosity as the individual does ? 
But to impose such humility as this on a nation would be to 
impose on it something quite different in ethical constitution 
from the same humility in an individual. An individual's 
abandonment of his rights is what the very words grammatically 
mean — the individual sacrificing himself ; but a nation's 
abandonment of its rights means the individual sacrificing the 
nation ; for the nation only acts through individuals. The 
individual is humble not for himself but for another, which is 
a very different thing. 

It is thus that every prospect which the progress of society 
appears to open of eradicating war from the system of the world 
closes as soon as we examine it. It may indeed be admitted 
that, even under all the existing defects of the world's system, 
a great diminution of war might arise from an improvement 
in one particular in the public mind of nations ; their judgment 
in estimating the strength of rival national causes and move- 
ments. In an age, e.g., when the clouds of war gather round 
the cause of national concentration, the interested neighbour- 
state that is conscious its own relative greatness is challenged 
by it should be able to calculate the strength of that cause and 
its susceptibility of resistance. We in this country, e.g., 
have long had this measuring faculty with respect to the 
strength of our own internal public movements and causes ; 
an acute sense of their growth, and when they reach a point 
at which they cannot be resisted ; and thus civil war has been 
forestalled by opportune concession. Did such a subtle per- 
ception exist in nations with respect to the strength of these 
national causes outside of them, nations too could reasonably 
judge when these reached an irresistible strength ; and so 
war would be forestalled between nations. 

WAR 305 

It is the lack of such a perception as this to which we may 
trace the cause of the recent terrible war close to our shores. 
In that case, on the one side there were the fragments of a 
mighty nation determined to reunite ; and on the other side 
there was a splendid nation, accustomed to supremacy, 
resolved to prevent a combination which would challenge that 
proud position. But to stop that reunion was an impossibihty ; 
that reunion was rooted in the action of a century, in a whole 
age of gradual drawing close ; it was too deeply fixed in the 
wiU of the people, had too strong a hold over their hearts ; 
it had turned the point of resistance. Yet this was what the 
other nation did not see ; one man alone saw it, and he was 
its Ruler. It came out afterwards, indeed, that even he had 
not the knowledge of particulars ; but he had that intuitive 
judgment and fine balancing faculty which sometimes acts in 
its place. He stood upon the shore, and to his importuning 
subjects, who bid him order back the wave, replied that he 
could not. But his wiU was not equal to his penetration, 
he did what, a thousand times before him, the acute, the dis- 
criminating, and the philosophic have done, gave way to the 
impetuous and blind ; and he had soon to retire from the 
uproar and conflict of empire, to mediate in solitude and 
isolation on the use of being wise. 

But though nations may advance in judgment, what sign 
is there that the progress of society ever can alter the existing 
plan of the world, or rather want of plan, from which war comes, 
viz., a want of all head to the nations and states of the world, 
— that progress can give natural society a vertex which nature 
has not given ? 

Are we then, progress failing us, to look for a cessation of 
war from the side of Christianity ? The question has often 
indeed been asked tauntingly, and it is a favourite fact which 
is called in evidence against revelation — Why has not Chris- 
tianity done away with war ? But if an alteration in the system 
of the world would be necessary in order to stop war ; if there 
is an irregularity in the structure of natural society, a void and 
hiatus in the fabric k as it is — that is no deficiency which Chris- 
tianity is required to correct. It is no part of the mission of 
Christianity to reconstruct the order of the world ; that is 
not its task, or its function. It assumes the world's system 
and its want of system ; its system as regards individuals, 

lo— (2433) 


its unsystematic condition as regards nations ; it does not 
profess to provide another world for us to live in. Yet this is 
the work which those in reahty impose upon it who ask tri- 
umphantly, why has not Christianity stopped war ? Progress 
has not done it, within whose sphere it rather is. Without 
indeed any correction of the structure of the world, a universal 
change in the temper of mankind would stop war. But 
Christianity is not remedial to the whole of human nature, 
but only to those hearts that receive it. 

It might, indeed, as well be asked — Why has not Christianity 
done away with civil government as carried on by force, and 
by the infliction of punishment, chains and death ? Yet we 
do not blame it for not having substituted love for compulsion 
here ; and why should we blame it for not having done so in 
the case of nations ? War and civil force are branches of 
one common stock, however wide apart in their mode of demon- 
stration. Civil government with its sword is a kind of war 
with man ; war, with its settlement of questions, is a kind of 
government of man. Can we indeed historically separate 
civil government and war, with reference to the ultimate basis 
of the force which each respectively applies ? Civil govern- 
ment has practically arisen out of conquest, and collected the 
scattered fragments of human society together, bound together 
independent tribes, and congregated mankind in a sufficient 
mass to admit of it. And yet, though apparently war 
3delds neither to the secular principle nor the religious, but 
keeps its place in the future obstinately, some go on think- 
ing of this world as advancing to some indefinite state of 

Prophecy indeed has foretold the time when nations should 
beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into 
pruning-hooks, when nations shall not lift up sword against 
nation, neither shall they learn war any more. But this total 
change pictured by the prophet does not in truth apply to 
war only ; it applies just as much to the civil government 
of the world. He foresees a reign of universal love, when men 
will no longer act by terror and compulsion ; but this is just 
as much against the chains and death of civil government as 
it is against war. Prophecy has two sides. On one side it 
says, a great renovation is coming, the slough of inveterate 
corruption will be cast off, peace and love will reign, and there 

WAR 307 

will be no more war. On the other hand, prophecy says, it 
will always be the same — things will go on as they do — the world 
will not change ; man wiU not cease to sin ; iniquity will abound 
up to the very end ; and there shall be wars ; nation shall 
rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. Such 
are the two voices. Separately, the one is aU vision, the other 
all matter of fact. But we cannot take these two prophecies 
separately ; we must take them together ; they are two sides 
of a whole. Prophecy speaks as a whole, of which the opposi- 
tions are interpretations. A kingdom of peace there will be ; 
but when the prophet seems to associate this paradisal era 
with earth, then apparent prophecy is corrected by a later 
supplement. As we approach the Gospel time, the sublime 
and supernatural scene remains, but its locality alters. To 
the Jewish prophet earth was heaven ; they mixed together 
in one landscape ; but the two worlds under the Gospel light 
divided, and the visible was exchanged for the invisible, as the 
place of the prophetic realm of peace. With respect to this 
world, later or Gospel prophecy is, if one may say so, singularly 
unenthusiastic ; it draws no sanguine picture, is in no ecstacy 
about humanity, speaks of no regeneration of society here ; 
it uses the language of melancholy fact. 

It was open to Christianity at starting to adopt and impose 
a higher law than the necessities of society allowed. Com- 
munity of goods is better than the appropriation of them, and 
the renunciation of the sword better than the use of it, provided 
only these agree with the necessities of society. It was open, 
therefore, to Christianity to have prohibited property and war. 
But such a course would have been in the first place wrong, 
if we may so speak ; because the higher law which is right 
if it agrees with the necessities of society is wrong if it con- 
tradicts them ; and in the next place, though a sect can afford 
to be arbitrary and exclusive, and to disown natural rights, 
Christianity, if it had done so, would have been abandoning 
its mission to embrace the world. There was therefore an 
inauguration of an era, a symbohcal fragment, an expression 
by action of the law of love, in the shape of a passing scene 
of community of goods ; but Christianity fundamentally 
assumed the right of property, and assumed the right of war. 
The right of property was open to the greatest abuses ; the 
right of war was a great evil to prevent a greater ; but they 


were necessary — absolutely necessary, therefore Christianity 
did not shrink from them. 

But Christianity at the same time only sanctions war through 
the medium of natural society and upon the hypothesis of a 
world at discord with herself. In her own world war would 
be impossible. And this mixture of Christianity with an ahen 
hypothesis it is, which makes Christian war so portentous a 
fact — almost like a picture of Manichean duahsm, in which the 
empires of light and darkness, order and confusion, spirit and 
matter, divine peace and self-conflicting uproar, coalesce in 
one creation. In Christian war, upon each one is the Holy 
Spirit's seal of peace, and on the mass wild nature's stamp of 
discord. It is indeed a humihation, and we shrink back from 
it ; but Christianity is obliged to act upon the assumption of 
that world which as a matter of fact exists, not upon the 
assumption of her own ideal world. 

When Faustus, the Manichean, argued with Augustine for 
his own idea of Christianity against the Catholic one, he said 
in effect — I want to release Christianity from degrading alli- 
ances : your Gospel is too accommodating ; it descends to the 
lowest connexions, and rises upon the very rudest basis of the 
Jewish law and its low and sanguinary morahty ; rid Chris- 
tianity of this coarse foundation, and shift it to a basis of 
sublime Magianism instead, and I wiU join you. What 
Faustus objected to was the actual junction in which the 
Divine Spirit of revelation in the Jewish law placed itself with 
the rudimental and coarse ideas of a rude age. But though 
Divine revelation might have come out as a pure ethereal 
flame, floating in air to feed some few fastidious spirits, and 
neglecting the mass, that was not its temper ; and Augustine 
dechned to change the Jewish for a subHme Magian foundation 
for Christianity. 

Now the rights of natural society are not to be put upon a 
par with the rude ideas of early ages ; stiU Christianity does 
undoubtedly drag an enormous weight with her in the adop- 
tion of these natural rights with their consequences. We 
speak of Christianity joining the world in the age of Constantine ; 
but indeed, antecedently to any particular relations to courts 
or states, Christianity is weighted with human nature ; is 
burdened by having to act upon an ahen hypothesis ; and has 
to admit within its pale a state of relationships full of dreadful 

WAR 309 

disorder. Yet it stoops to conquer ; it grapples wdth the 
coarse elements of human nature, descends to the dust with 
man, to raise him out of it ; and accommodates its celestial 
birth to a worldly sojourn. 

Lastly, Christianity comes as the consoler of the sufferings 
of war. The general only regards his men as masses, so much 
aggregate of force ; he cannot afford to look at them in any 
other aspect ; he has only two things to look at, the end and 
the means, he cannot pause between them to think of the life 
individual ; it would carry him into interminable thought ; 
it would be meditating as a sage, not acting ; the idea is over- 
whelming, and it would paralyse him ; he may admit it just 
for a moment, hke Xerxes, but he must dismiss it instantly. 
No ! force is all he has to do with ; if he thinks of the persons, 
he totters ; if he pities, he is gone. But the Church takes up 
the mass exactly where he left off ; at the units in it — the 
persons. Every one of these had his hopes, his interests, his 
schemes, his prospects ; but to some a wound, a loss of limb, 
in a moment altered all. Christianity comes to him as com- 
forter, and shows how even that loss may be a gain. Every 
one of them has his home, where he is thought of, where he is 
somebody. If he has fallen, Christian hope alleviates the sorrow 
of that home. Thus the aspect of man as a mass was true for 
a purpose only, and false in itself. To some, to think of 
humanity as personal seems a dream and romance ; that it is 
an aggregate, a whole, is the matter of fact ; but to the Church 
this last is the dream, the first is the fact. Mankind is all mass 
to the human eye, and all individual to the Divine. 


The central doctrine of Christianity is not continued existence 
after death but resurrection from the dead — a truth which 
Liddon emphatically and uncompromisingly preached. That 
is not, however, the theme of the present sermon. It was 
preached in St. Paul's Cathedral on December 14, 1879, and 
is to be found in the collection of Dr. Liddon's Advent sermons 
called Advent in St. Paul's. Liddon was apprehensive that, 
while a much larger place had come to be filled in the thoughts 
and lives of Churchmen by the doctrine of the Incarnation, 
the looking for the Second Coming of Christ to judgment was 
fading from the mind of a busy world. Quite recently, the 
eschatological character of the primitive Gospel has been forced 
on the attention of theologians by the " German reaction," 
of which Albert Schweitzer has been the leading exponent. 
Our Lord's message, it is held, was dominated by the pre- 
diction of His own immediate return and the catastrophic end 
of the world. This view is resisted principally by the " Liberal - 
Protestant " school, which regards Christ mainly as an ethical 
Teacher, whose precepts and example were slowly to leaven a 
world ever growing better and better. But both schools agree 
that the Church's Advent expectation is baseless. The 
promise, " I will come again and receive you unto myself," 
had not, and cannot have, any fulfilment. 

Liddon, if this denial had been put forward from University 
Divinity chairs in his time, would certainly have said, in words 
used by him on another occasion, " Then let us turn the key 
in the west door of this cathedral, if Christ is not coming back 
in glory." There are few of his own Advent sermons which it 
would not have been necessary to tear up. The present 
sermon, however, might be excepted, dealing as it does, from 


HENRY PARRY LIDDON (1829-1890) 311 

a singularly non-doctrinal standpoint, with the condition and 
apprehensions of the disembodied spirit, immediately after 
death. Comparison with Newman's Dream of Gerontius is 
obvious, but Liddon's " Five Minutes after Death " does not 
breathe the atmosphere of the imaginative and mysterious. 
Liddon was not a mystic, the so-called " French " cast of his 
mind inclining rather to what is lucid, systematic, clear-cut 
and logical. The Rt. Hon. George Russell observes of him — 
alluding, probably, to the present sermon : — " He was indeed a 
most vigorous thinker, but he did all his thinking in the terms 
of time and space. He did not shrink from applying temporal 
standards of measurement to the life of eternity." Mr. RusseU 
also dwells on the periphrastic — what he rather boldly calls 
the journalistic — character of the diction of his " loved and 
honoured master," from which the concrete, pictorial, imagery of 
apocalypse was somewhat alien. Regarded merely as literary 
style, it was certainly wanting in the chaste austerity and 
simplicity which, coupled with loftiness, fragrance and beauty, 
make really noble writing. Liddon excelled in epigram. But, 
apart from his matter and the intensity behind it, the eloquence 
of the modem preacher is not, I think, comparable, from the 
point of view of literature, with that of Donne, Taylor or South. 
Liddon's preaching, however, must be estimated from a 
higher point of viev/. Lord Acton in 1885 called him " the 
greatest power in the conflict with sin, and turning the souls 
of men to God, that the nation now possesses." Similarly 
Gladstone wrote : — " Dr. Liddon has been nearly the first to 
associate a great thinking force with the masteries of a first- 
rate preacher. May he not perhaps be called the first champion 
of belief ? " It was said, " Liddon carried us up to heaven 
and kept us there for an hour " — indeed, on one occasion it 
was for an hour and forty minutes. Seldom has an impassioned 
other-worldliness been so coupled with immense power of 
thought, language and deUvery. But who can describe 
Liddon so well as the author of those Personal Studies from 


which several quotations have already been made ? Dr 
Scott Holland first speaks of old Oxford impressions, recalling — 

" The thrill of that vibrant voice, alive with all the passion 
of the horn-, vehement, searching, appealing, pleading, ringing 
ever higher as the great argument lifted him ; the swift turns 
of the beautiful face, as he flung over us some burning ironic 
phrase or quivering challenge ; the beads on the brow that told 
of the force expended ; the grace, the movement, the fire, the 
sincerity of it all. It was wonderful to us." ^ 
Again : — 

" His immense success as a preacher never touched him. 
Surely never was there anyone so utterly and entirely free 
from the infirmities to which popular preachers are proverbially 
prone. We might be told by the ' Intellectuals ' that he was 
a rhetorician. Intellectually he had the gifts of a splendid 
advocate. But .... we owned ourselves spellbound by 
the passionate sincerity of a man wholly committed to his 
belief, who had but one aim possessing him, the aim of dedi- 
cating every gift in his being to winning each soul before him 
into that allegiance to Christ his Master which was to him the 
sole and supreme interpretation of life, at once his awful joy 
and tremendous responsibility." ^ 

Mr. RusseU contrasts the cathedral in which Liddon preached 
to eager multitudes with the same building as described by 
Kingsley in Yeast : — 

" The afternoon service was proceeding. The organ droned 
sadly in its iron cage to a few musical amateurs. Some 
nursery-maids and foreign sailors stared about within the 
spiked felon 's-dock which shut off the body of the Cathedral, 
and tried in vain to hear what was going on inside the choir. 
The scanty service rattled in the vast building, like a dried 
kernel too small for its shell. The place breathed imbecility 
and unreality and sleepy life-in-death, while the whole nine- 
teenth century went roaring on its way outside. And as 

1 op. cit., p. 155. a /fcj^^ p_ 165, 


Lancelot thought of old St. Paul's, the morning star and 
focal beacon of England through centuries and dynasties, 
from Augustine and MeUitus up to those Paul's Cross 
sermons whose thunders shook thrones, and to Wren's noble 
masterpiece of art, he asked, ' Whither ah this ? ' " 

For all that, these great minsters were not built to be simply, 
or even principally, vast preaching-houses, and the demolition 
of the choir screen at St. Paul's was a liturgical and architectural 

Liddon was the greatest figure of the Sub-Tractarian genera- 
tion, yet with none of the modernizing and concessionist 
tendencies which mid- Victorian Highchurchmanship began to 
exhibit. Ecclesiastical and Oxonian to the backbone, his 
sympathies were with the ancient traditions, while the acute 
anguish caused him by the new theological departure — especi- 
ally its abandonment of the inerrancy of Holy Scripture and 
of the infallibility of the Redeemer — hastened his end. But 
Liddon's travelled mind, and especially his relations with 
Eastern Christianity, gave him a wider horizon of personal 
knowledge than Keble and Pusey had possessed. It was the 
Eastern Question and the pro-Turkish sympathies of English 
Conservatives which tempted Liddon into politics, and brought 
it paradoxically about that a man whom Liberals regarded as 
a gloomy reactionary and medisevalist was sometimes numbered 
among them. 

Five Minutes After Death ^ 

Then shall I know even as also I am known. — 1 Corinthians xiii, 12. 

An Indian officer, who in his time had seen a great deal of 
service, and had taken part in more than one of those decisive 
struggles by which the British authority was finally established 
in the East Indies, had returned to end his days in this country, 
and was talking with his friends about the most striking 
experiences of his professional career. They led him, by their 
sympathy and their questions, to travel in memory through 
* This sermon is printed here by permission of Messrs. Longman. 

20A— (2433) 


a long series of years ; and as he described skirmishes, battles, 
sieges, personal encounters, hair-breadth escapes, the outbreak 
of the Mutiny and its suppression, reverses, victories — all the 
swift alternations of anxiety and hope which a man must know 
who is entrusted with command and is before the enemy, 
their interest in his story, as was natural, became keener and 
more exacting. At last he paused with the observation, " I 
expect to see something much more remarkable than anything 
I have been describing." As he was some seventy years of 
age, and was understood to have retired from active service, 
his listeners failed to catch his meaning. There was a pause ; 
and then he said in an undertone, " I mean in the first five 
minutes after death." 

" The first five minutes after death ! " Surely the expres- 
sion is worth remembering, if only as that of a man to whom 
the Hfe to come was evidently a great and solemn reality. 
" The first five minutes." If we may employ for the moment 
when speaking of eternity standards of measurement which 
belong to time, it is at least conceivable that, after the lapse 
of some thousands or tens of thousands of years, we shall have 
lost all sense of a succession in events ; that existence wiU 
have come to seem to be only a never-ceasing present ; an 
imbegun and unending now. It is, I say, at least conceivable 
that this will be so ; but can we suppose that at the moment of 
our entrance on that new and wonderful world we shall already 
think and feel as if we had always been there, or had been 
there, at least, for ages ? 

There is, no doubt, an impression sometimes to be met with 
that death is followed by a state of unconsciousness. 

" If sleep and death be truly one 
And every spirit's folded bloom, 
Through all its intervital gloom, 
In some long trance should slumber on, 

" Unconscious of the sliding hour. 
Bare of the body, might it last. 
And all the traces of the past 
Be all the colour of the flower." 

But that is a supposition which is less due to the exigencies 
of reason than to the sensitiveness of imagination. The 
imagination recoils from the task of anticipating a moment 
so full of awe and wonder as must be that of the introduction 
of a conscious spirit to the invisible world. And, accordingly, 


the reason essays to persuade itself, if it can, that hfe after 
death will not be conscious life, although it is difficult to recog- 
nize a single reason why, if life, properly speaking, survives 
at all, it should forfeit consciousness. Certainly the life of the 
souls under the heavenly altar, who intercede perpetually 
with God for the approach of the Last Judgment, is not an 
unconscious hfe. Certainly the Paradise which our Lord 
promised to the dying thief cannot be reasonably imagined to 
have been a moral and mental slumber, any more than can 
those unembodied ministers of God who do His pleasure, 
who are sent forth to minister to them that are the heirs of 
salvation, be supposed to reach a condition no higher than that 
which is produced by chloroform. No, this supposition of an 
unconscious state after death is a discovery, not of revelation, 
not of reason, but of desire ; of a strong desire on the one hand 
to keep a hold on immortahty, and on the other to escape the 
risks which immortahty may involve. It cannot well be doubted 
that consciousness — if not retained to the last in the act of 
dying, if suspended by sleep, or by physical disease, or by 
derangement — must be recovered as soon as the act of death 
is completed, with the removal of the cause which suspended 
it. Should this be the case, the soul wiU enter upon another 
life with the habits of thought which belong to time still 
clinging to it ; they will be unlearnt gradually, if at all, in the 
after-ages of existence. And, assuredly, the first sense of being 
in another world must be overwhelming. Imagination can, 
indeed, form no worthy estimate of it ; but we may do well 
to try to think of it as best we can this afternoon, since it is 
at least one of the approaches to the great and awful subject 
which should be before our thoughts at this time of the year, 
namely, the Second Coming of Jesus Christ to Judgment. 
And here the Apostle comes to our assistance with his anticipa- 
tion of the future hfe, as a life of enormously enhanced know- 
ledge : " Then shaU I know even as also I am known." He 
is thinking, no doubt, of that hfe as a whole, and not of the 
first entrance on it, immediately after death. No doubt, 
also, he is thinking of the high privileges of the blessed, whose 
knowledge, we may presume to say, with some great teachers 
of the Church, will be thus vast and comprehensive because 
they wiU see all things in God, as in the ocean of truth. But 
it cannot be supposed that an increase of knowledge after death 


will be altogether confined to the blessed. The change itself 
must bring with it the experience which is inseparable from a 
new mode of existence ; it must unveil secrets ; it must dis- 
cover vast tracts of fact and thought for every one of the sons 
of men. Let us try to keep it before our minds, reverently 
and earnestly, for a few minutes ; and let us ask ourselves, 
accordingly, what will be the most startling additions to 
our existing knowledge at our first entrance on the world to 

First, then, at our entrance on another state of being, we 
shall know what it is to exist under entirely new conditions. 
Here we are bound up — we hardly suspect, perhaps, how inti- 
mately — in thought and affection, with the persons and objects 
around us. They influence us subtly and powerfully in a 
thousand ways ; in some cases they altogether shape the 
course of life. In every hfe, it has been truly said, much more 
is taken for granted than is ever noticed. The mind is eagerly 
directed to the few persons and subjects which affection or 
interest force prominently upon its notice ; it gazes inertly 
at all the rest. As we say, it does not take them in, until 
some incident arises which forces them one by one into view. 
A boy never knows what his home was worth until he has 
gone for the first time to school ; and then he misses, and as 
he misses he eagerly recollects and realises, all that he has left 
behind him. Who of us that has experienced it can ever 
forget those first hours at school after leaving home ; that 
moment when the partings were over, and the carriage drove 
away from the door, and we heard the last of the wheels and 
of the horses as they went round the comer, and then turned 
to find ourselves in a new world, among strange faces and in 
strange scenes, and under a new and perhaps sterner govern- 
ment ? Then, for the first time, and at a distance from it, 
we found out what our home had been to us. It was more to us 
in memory than it had ever been while we were in it. All that 
we saw, and heard, and had to do, and had to give up, at school 
presented a contrast which stimulated our memories of what 
had been the rule of home — of its large hberty, of its gentle 
looks and words, of its scenes and haunts, which had taken 
such a hold on our hearts without our knowing it. It was too 
much ; we had to shrink away into some place where we could 
be alone, and recover ourselves as best we could before we were 


able to fall in with the ways of our new life. No doubt, in 
time, habit did its work ; habit turned school, I will not say 
into a second home, but into a new and less agreeable kind of 
home. And, as the years passed, we saw repeated again and 
again in the case of others that which we had experienced at 
first, and with a vividness that did not admit of repetition in 

This may enable us, in a certain sense, to understand what 
is in store for all of us at our entrance, by dying, into the unseen 
world. I do not, of course, mean that this life is our home, 
and that the future at all necessarily corresponds to school as 
being an endless banishment. God forbid ! If we only will 
have it, the exact reverse of this shall be the case. But the 
parallel will so far hold good that at death we must experience 
a sense of strangeness to which nothing in this life has ever 
approached. Not merely will the scene be new — to us as yet 
it is unimaginable ; not merely will the beings around us, 
the shapes, forms, conditions of existence, be strange — they 
are as yet inconceivable ; but we ourselves shall have undergone 
a change ; a change so complete that we cannot here and now 
anticipate its full meaning. We shall exist, thinking and feeling 
and exercising memory and will and understanding ; but — 
without bodies. Think what that means. We are at present 
at home in the body ; we have not yet learnt, by losing it, 
what the body is to us. The various activities of the soul 
are sorted out and appropriated by the several senses of the 
body, so that the soul's action from moment to moment is 
made easy, we may v/ell conceive, by being thus distributed. 
What will it be to compress all that the senses now achieve 
separately into a single act ; to see, but without these eyes ; 
to hear, but without these ears ; to experience something 
purely supersensuous that shall answer to the grosser senses of 
taste and smell ; and to see, hear, smeU, and taste by a single 
movement of the spirit, combining all these separate modes 
of apprehension into one ? What will it be to find ourselves 
with the old self, divested of this body which has clothed it 
since its first moment of existence ; able to achieve, it may be 
so much, it may be so httle ; living on, but imder conditions 
so totally new ? This experience alone will add no little to 
our existing knowledge ; and the addition will have been made 
in the first five minutes after death. 


And the entrance on the next world must bring with it a 
knowledge of God such as is impossible in this life. In this 
hfe many men talk of God, and some men think much and 
deeply about Him. But here men do not attain to that sort 
of direct knowledge of God which the Bible calls " sight." 
We do not see a hxmian soul. The soul makes itself felt in 
conduct, in conversation, in the lines of the countenance ; 
although these often enough mislead us. The soul speaks 
through the eye, which misleads us less often. That is to say, 
we know that the soul is there, and we detect something of its 
character and power and drift. We do not see it. In the same 
way we feel God present in nature, whether in its awe or its 
beauty ; and in human history, whether in its justice or its 
weird mysteriousness ; and in the life of a good man, or the 
circumstances of a generous or noble act. Most of all we feel 
Him near when conscience, His inward messenger, speaks 
plainly and decisively to us. Conscience, that invisible 
prophet, surely appeals to and implies a law, and a law implies 
a legislator. But we do not see Him. " No man hath seen 
God at any time " ; even " the only begotten Son, which is in 
the bosom of the Father," is only said to have " declared 
Him," since in Him the Godhead was veiled from earthly 
sight by that mantle of Flesh and Blood which, together with 
a human soul. He assumed in time. Certainly great servants 
of God have been said to see Him even in this hfe. Thus Job : 
" I have heard of Thee by the hearing of the ear : but now 
mine eye seeth Thee." Thus David : "As for me, I will 
behold Thy presence in righteousness." Thus Isaiah " beheld " 
while the glory of the Lord filled the Temple. Thus S. John, 
when he saw the risen Saviour in His glory, fell at His feet as 
dead. These are either preternatural anticipations of the 
future hfe vouchsafed to exceptionally good men, or they are, 
as with Job, cases in which men are said to see God only in a 
relative sense. Sight does not mean anything spiritual which 
corresponds fully to the action of the bodily eye, but only a 
much higher degree of perception than had been possible 
in a lower spiritual state. Of the children of men in this 
moral state the rule holds good that no one hath seen God at 
any time. 

But after death there will be a change. It is said of our 
Lord's glorified manhood, united as it is for ever to the Person 


of the Eternal Son, that " every eye shall see Him, and they 
also which pierced Him." Even the lost will then understand 
much more of what God is to the universe and to themselves, 
although they are for ever excluded from the direct vision of 
God. And they, too, wiU surely see God who are waiting 
for the full glories of the sight to be vouchsafed to them after 
an intermediate time of discipline and training in the state 
which Scripture calls Paradise. The spirit of man, we cannot 
doubt, will be much more conscious of the spirits around it, 
and of the Father of spirits, than was possible while it was 
encased in the body. God will no longer be to it a mere 
abstraction, a First Cause, a First Intelligence, a Supreme 
Morality, the Absolute, the Self-Existent, the Unconditioned 
Being. He will no longer reveal Himself to the strained 
tension of human thought, as one by one His attributes are 
weighed and balanced and reconciled and apportioned, after 
such poor fashion and measure as is possible for the finite mind 
when dealing with the Infinite. None of us will any more 
play with phrases about Him to which nothing is felt to corre- 
spond in thought or fact. He will be there, before us. " We 
shall see Him as He is." His vast illimitable Life will present 
itself to the apprehension of our spirits as a clearly consistent 
whole ; not as a complex problem to be painfully mastered by 
the effort of our understandings, but as a present, living, 
encompassing Being, Who inflicts Himself on the very sight 
of His adoring creatures. What will that first apprehension 
of God, under the new conditions of the other life, be ? There 
are trustworthy accounts of men who have been utterly over- 
come at the first sight of a fellow-creature with whose name 
and work they had for long years associated great wisdom 
or goodness, or ability. The first sight of the earthly Jerusalem 
has endowed more than one traveller with a perfectly new 
experience in the life of thought and feeling. What must not 
be the first direct sight of God, the Source of aU beauty, of all 
wisdom, of all power, when the eye opens upon Him after 
death ! " Thine eyes shall see the King in His beauty " were 
words of warning as well as words of promise. What will it 
not be to see Him in those first few moments — God, the Eternal 
Love, God, the consuming Fire — as we shall see Him in the 
first five minutes after death ! 

Once more ; at our entrance on another world we shall 


know our own selves as never before. The past will lie spread 
out before us, and we shall take a comprehensive survey of it. 
Each man's life will be displayed to him as a river, which he 
traces from its source in a distant mountain till it mingles with 
the distant ocean. The course of that river lies, sometimes 
through dark forests which hide it from view, sometimes 
through sands or marshes in which it seems to lose itself. Here 
it forces a passage angrily between precipitous rocks, there it 
ghdes gently through meadows which it makes green and 
fertile. At one while it might seem to be turning backwards 
out of pure caprice : at another to be parting, like a gay 
spendthrift, with half its volume of waters ; while later on 
it receives contributory streams that restore its strength ; 
and so it passes on, till the ebb and flow of the tides upon its 
bank tells that the end is near. What will not the retrospect 
be when, after death, we survey, for the first time, as with 
a bird's-eye view, the whole long range — the strange vicissi- 
tudes, the loss and gain, as we deem it, the failures and the 
triumphs of our earthly existence ; when we measure it, as 
never before, in its completeness, now that it is at last over ! 
This, indeed, is the characteristic of the survey after death, 
that it will be complete. 

" There no shade can last. 
In that deep dawn behind the tomb. 
But clear from marge to marge shall bloom 
The eternal landscape of the past." 

That survey of life which is made by the dying is less than 
complete ; it cannot include the closing scene of all. While 
there is life there is room for recovery, and the hours which 
remain may be very different from those which have preceded. 
It may be thought that to review life will take as long a time 
as to live it ; but this notion betrays a very imperfect idea of 
the resource and capacity of the human soul. Under the 
pressure of great feeling, the soul lives with a rapidity and 
intensity which disturb all its usual relations to time ; witness 
the reports which those who have nearly lost their lives by 
drowning have made of their mental experiences. It once 
happened to me to assist at the recovery of a man who nearly 
forfeited his life while bathing. He had sunk the last time, 
and there was difficulty in getting him to land, and when he was 
landed still greater difficulty in restoring him. Happily there 


was skilled assistance at hand, and so presently my friend 
recovered, not without much distress, first one and then 
another of the sensations and faculties of his bodily life. In 
describing his experience of what must have been the whole 
conscious side of the act of dying by drowning, he said that 
the time had seemed to him of very great duration ; he had 
lost his standard of the worth of time. He had lived his whole 
past hfe over again ; he had not epitomized it ; he had repeated 
it, as it seemed to him, in detail and with the greatest delibera- 
tion. He had great difficulty in understanding that he had 
only been in the water for a few minutes. During these intenser 
moments of existence the life of the soul has no sort of relation 
to what we call time. 

Yes, in entering another world we shall know what we have 
been in the past as never before ; but we shall know also what 
we are. The soul, divested of the body, will see itself as never 
before ; and it may be that it will see disfigurements and ulcers 
which the body, like a beautiful robe, had hitherto shrouded 
from the sight, and which are revealed in this life only by the 
shock of a great sorrow or of a great fall. There is a notion 
abroad — a notion which is welcomed because, whether true 
or not, it is very comfortable — that the soul will be so changed 
by death as to lose the disfigurements which it may have 
contracted through life ; that the death agony is a furnace, 
by being plunged into which the soul will burn out its stains : 
or that death involves such a shock as to break the continuity 
of our moral condition, though not of existence itself ; and thus 
that, in changing worlds, we shall change our characters, and 
that moral evil will be buried with the body in the grave, while 
the soul escapes, purified by separation from its grosser 
companion, to the regions of holiness and peace. 

Surely, brethren, this is an illusion which will not stand the 
test — we need not for the moment say of Christian truth, but — 
of reasonable reflexion. It is a contradiction to all that we 
know about the character and mind of man, in which nothing 
is more remarkable than the intimate and enduring connexion 
which subsists between its successive states or stages of develop- 
ment. Every one of us here present is now exactly what his 
past life has made him. Our present thoughts, feelings, 
mental habits, good and bad, are the effects of what we have 
done or left undone, of cherished impressions, of passions 


indulged or repressed, of pursuits vigorously embraced or 
willingly abandoned. And as our past mental and spiritual 
history has made us what we are, so we are at this very moment 
making ourselves what we shall be. I do not forget that 
intervention of a higher force which we call " grace," and by 
which the direction of a hfe may be suddenly changed, as in 
S. Paul's case at his conversion ; although these great changes 
are often prepared for by a long preceding process, and are 
not so sudden as they seem. But we are speaking of the rule, 
and not of the exception. The rule is that men are in each 
stage of their existence what, with or without God's super- 
natural grace, they have made themselves in the preceding 
stages ; and there is no reasonable ground for thinking that at 
death the influence of a whole lifetime will cease to operate 
upon character, and that, whatever those influences may have 
been, the soul will be purified by the shock of death. Why, I 
ask, should death have any such result ? What is there in 
death to bring it about ? Death is the dissolution of the 
bodily frame ; of the hmbs and organs through which the soul 
now acts. These organs are, no doubt, very closely connected 
with the soul, which strikes its roots into them and acts through 
them. But, although closely connected with the soul, they are 
distinct from it : thought, conscience, affection, will, are quite 
independent of the organs which are dissolved by death. And 
it is impossible to see why the soul should put on a new character 
simply because it lays aside for awhile the instrument which 
it has employed during a term of years, any more than why a 
painter's right hand should forget its cunning because he has 
sold his easel, or why a murderer in fact should cease to be a 
murderer at heart because he has lost his dagger and cannot 
afford to replace it. True, at death, the ear, the eye, the 
hands perish. But when they are destroyed in this hfe by an 
accident, does character change with them ? The indulgence 
of the purely animal appetite may depend on the healthy 
condition of the organ ; but the mental condition which 
permits, if it does not dictate, the indulgence remains un- 
affected. Principles of right action or their opposites outhve 
the faculties, as they outlive the opportunities for asserting 
themselves in act. The habit of thieving is not renounced 
because the right hand has been cut off ; nor are sensual 
dispositions because the body is prostrate through illness ; 


nor is evil curiosity because the eye is dim and the ear deaf. 
And when aU the instruments through which in this hfe the 
soul has expressed itself, and which collectively make up the 
body, are laid aside by the emphatic act of death, the soul 
itself, and all its characteristic thought and affections, will 
remain unaffected, since its life is independent of its bodily 
envelope as is the body's life of the clothes which we wear. 

One Being there is Who knows us now. Who knows us per- 
fectly. Who has always known us. When we die we shall for. 
the first time know ourselves, even as also we are known. We 
shall not have to await the Judge's sentence ; we shall read it 
at a glance, whatever it be, in this new apprehension of what 
we are. 

It may help us, then, to think from time to time of what will 
be our condition in the first five minutes after death. Like 
death itself, the solemnities which follow it must come to all 
of us. We know not when, or where, or how we shall enter on 
it ; this only we know — that come it must. Those first five 
minutes, that first awakening to a new existence, with its 
infinite possibilities, will only be tolerable if we have indeed, 
with the hands of faith and love, laid hold on the hope set 
before us, in the Person of Jesus Christ our Lord and Saviour, 
Who for us men and for our salvation took flesh, and was 
crucified and rose from death, and ascended into heaven, and 
has pleaded incessantly at the right hand of the Father for us, 
the weak and erring children of the Fall. Without him, a 
knowledge of that new world, of its infinite and awful Master, 
still more of ourselves as we really are, will indeed be terrifying. 
With Him we may trust that such knowledge will be more than 
bearable ; we may think calmly even of that tremendous 
experience if He, the Eternal God, is indeed " our Refuge, 
and underneath are the everlasting arms." 

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public as a fine descriptive writer, has done for the East End of 
London what he did for the Klondyke — has described it fully and 
faithfully, looking at it as intimately as dispassionately." — Daily 



WHAT IS SOCIALISM ? By " Scotsburn." An attempt to examine 
the principles and policy propounded by the advocates of Socialism. 
In demy 8vo, cloth gilt, 7s. 6d. 


THE ADVENTURER IN SPAIN. By S. R. Crockett. With 162 
illustrations by Gordon Browne and from photographs taken by 
the Author. In large crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s. 

AROUND AFGHANISTAN. By Major de Bouillane de Lacoste. 
Translated from the French by J. G. Anderson. With five maps 
and 113 illustrations. In super royal 8vo, cloth gilt, gilt top, 
10s. 6d. net. 

" This beautifully illustrated book of travels takes the reader 
through Persia, to Yarkand, and other famous cities of Turkestan, 
including Samarkand, with its majestic tomb of Tamerlane. A 
valuable photographic record of little-trodden regions." — Evening 

Country. By Francis Miltoun and Blanche McManus. With 
seventy illustrations reproduced from paintings made on the spot, 
and maps, plans, etc. In large crown Svo, cloth richly gilt, gilt top, 
7s. 6d. net. 

" One of the most dehghtful travel books that we have come 
across for some time." — Country Life. 

Provinces. By the same Authors. With 63 illustrations (some in 
colour), maps, plans, etc. In large crown Svo, cloth richly gUt, 
gilt top, 7s. 6d. net. 

" The book is well worth reading, not merely as a travel handbook, 
but for its sympathetic, social and historical review of a very 
interesting section of the French people." — Irish Times. 

Provinces. By the same Authors. With 59 illustrations (some in 
colour), maps, plans, etc. In large crown Svo, cloth richly gilt, 
gilt top, 7s. 6d. net. 

" Their new volume strikes the reader as the most readable and 
most instructive they have yet given us." — Nottingham Guardian. 

With 75 illustrations, in colour and black and white maps, plans, 
etc. In large crown Svo, cloth gilt, gilt top, with cover of charming 
design, 7s. 6d. net. 

" A comprehensive account of Morocco, Algiers, and Tunis, and 
of Mussulman government., religion, art, culture, and French 
influence. Picturesquely illustrated." — Times. 



Countries and Peoples Series 

Each in imperial 16mo, cloth gilt, gilt top, with about 30 full-page 
plate illustrations, 6s. net. 


" The knowledge and judgment displayed in the volume are truly 
astounding, and the labour the author has expended on it has made 
it as indispensable as Baedeker to the traveller, as well as invaluable 
to the student of modern times." — Daily Telegraph. 

FRANCE OF THE FRENCH. By E. Harrison Barker. 

" A book of general information concerning the life and genius 
of the French people, with especial reference to contemporary 
France. Covers every phase of French intellectual life — architecture, 
players, science, and invention, etc. — Times. 

SPAIN OF THE SPANISH. By Mrs. Villiers-Wardell. 

" Within little more than 250 pages she has collected a mass of 
ordered information which must be simply invaluable to any one 
who wants to know the facts of Spanish life at the present day. 
Nowhere else, so far as we are aware, can a more complete and yet 
compendious account of modern Spain be found." — Pall Mall 


" Mr. Webb's account of that unknown country is intimate 
faithful, and interesting. It is an attempt to convey a real know 
ledge of a striking people — an admirably successful attempt." — 
Morning Leader. 


" Mr. Berry abundantly proves his abiUty to write of ' Germany 
of the Germans ' in an able and informing fashion. What he does 
is to state so far an can be done within the scope of a single handy 
volume, particulars of all aspects of life as lived in Germany to-day." 
— Daily Telegraph. ; S 


" There could hardly be a better handbook for the newspaper 
reader who wants to understand aU the conditions of the ' danger 
zone.' " — Spectator. 

BELGIUM OF THE BELGIANS. By Demetrius C. Boulger. 

" A very complete handbook to the country." — World. 
*^* Volumes on Servia, Japan, Russia, Austria, etc., are in preparation. 




The " All Red ' ' Series. 

Each volume is in demy 8vo, cloth gilt, red edges, with 16 full-page 
plate illustrations, maps, etc., 7s. 6d. net. 

RiNGROSE Wise (formerly Attorney-General of New South Wales) 

" The ' All Red ' Series should become known as the Weil-Read 
Series within a short space of time. Nobody is better qualified to 
write of AustraUa than the late Attorney-General of New South 
Wales, who knows the country intimately and writes of it with 
enthusiasm. It is one of the best accounts of the Island Continent 
that has yet been published. We desire to give a hearty welcome 
to this series." — Globe. 

Bt., formerly Under-Secretary for Defence, New Zealand, and 
previously a Lieutenant, R.N. 

" Those who have failed to find romance in the history of the 
British Empire should read The Dominion of New Zealand. Sir 
Arthur Douglas contrives to present in the 444 pages of his book an 
admirable account of Ufe in New Zealand and an impartial summary 
of her development up to the present time. It is a most alluring 
picture that one conjures up after reading it." — Standard. 

THE DOMINION OF CANADA. By W. L. Griffith, Secretary to 
the Office of the High Commissioner for Canada. 

" The publishers could hardly . have found an author better 
qualified than Mr. Griffith to represent the premier British Dominion 
... an excellent plain account of Canada, one of the best and most 
comprehensive yet published . . . trustworthy." — Athencsum. 

Other volumes in preparation. 

lated from the French by R. Lydekker, F.R.S., and H. M. 
Lydekker. With 80 illustrations. In super royal Svo, cloth gfilt, 
8s. 6d. net. 

NATIVE LIFE IN EAST AFRICA. By Professor Karl Weulh. 
Translated from the German with Introduction and Notes by 
Alice Werner. With four maps and 196 illustrations. In 
royal Svo, cloth gilt, 12s. 6d. net. 




Sir Isaac Pitman & Sons, Ltd., have pleasure in Ceilling attention to 

the following Catalogues of Books published by them. They will be 

pleased to send on application any of these Catalogues, all of which 

have been brought up to date. 

[B] PITMAN'S COMMERCIAL SERIES. A list of Books suitable for 
use in Evening Schools and Classes and for Reference in Business 
Houses. 48 pp. 



and the Teacher. Illustrated. 20 pp. with Supplement. 

[F] SOME TEXT-BOOKS specially adapted for Evening and Com- 

mercial Schools. Illustrated. 64 pp. 





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Teacher ; The Magazine of Commerce and British 
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Specimens on Application (except " United Empire.") 

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Sir Isaac Pittnan & Sons, Ltd., London, Batk. and New Vorh. 


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